


At Your Request

by dettiot



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Prompt Fill, Six Sentence Saturday
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-03-20 01:23:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 167
Words: 77,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3631371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dettiot/pseuds/dettiot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of ficlets based off prompts.  Almost exclusively Oliver/Felicity, but with guest appearances from all the other Arrow characters and then some.  :-)  </p><p>Originally posted on <a href="http://dettiot.tumblr.com/">my Tumblr</a>.  The original prompt is the title of each chapter and also included at the start of the ficlet.</p><p>Recent Additions<br/>Chapter 160: A new allergy for Felicity<br/>Chapter 161: Oliver and Felicity meet Chuck and Sarah in a weird way<br/>Chapter 162: Oliver buying a pregnancy test for a Felicity who thinks she couldn't possibly be pregnant, but he just KNOWS she is and is trying to prove it.<br/>Chapter 163: The phone call Oliver made to Barry Allen to re-invite him to be Felicity's plus one at the event at the Queen Mansion<br/>Chapter 164: A Sabrina Olicity AU<br/>Chapter 165: Drunk Broke-N-Arrow<br/>Chapter 166: Olicity college (or high school) AU where Felicity finds Oliver in her usual spot in the library and "what are you even doing in the library?"<br/>Chapter 167: Baby kittens left in a box... at someone's work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You didn't have to break it, you know

_"You didn't have to break it, you know"_

"Yes, I did," Felicity said, jutting out her lower lip. 

"I don’t understand," Oliver said, coming closer to her and taking her forearms in his hands. "The information on that drive—"

"I’d never be able to trust it, considering the source," Felicity said quietly, reaching up to take his face in her hands. "And I’d rather find out about your past—on the island, in Hong Kong, all of it—from you and not from Amanda Waller." 

Oliver wasn’t sure what to say, how to respond to what she had said and done, so he just leaned in and kissed her slowly, giving thanks yet again for this woman.


	2. You died!

_"You died!"_

"I know," he said softly, approaching her carefully, like she was a skittish animal. Which made her even more angry and frustrated and— _God_ , his eyes. His eyes and his face and his shoulders and his hands and his everything. 

She sniffed, trying to hold back the tears. ”You died,” she said softly, before throwing her arms around him and holding him as tight as she could. 

His arms wrapped around her, one hand stroking her hair, as he whispered in her ear, “I came back for you, Felicity.”


	3. I never want to see your face, ever again.

_"I never want to see your face, ever again."_

Laurel took a step back, staring at Oliver. ”Ollie, you don’t mean that—”

His jaw clenched for a moment, his eyes dark, before he looked away, his shoulders slumping. ”You’re right, I don’t mean that. But Laurel—you’re doing this for the wrong reasons, and … and you nearly got Felicity killed. So I need you to leave for a while, until I can forgive you.”


	4. Did you really think I wouldn't come back for you?

_"Did you really think I wouldn't come back for you?"_

With a soft smile, Felicity lifted her head from where it was resting against his naked chest. ”You gotta admit, the odds were pretty long against you.”

Reaching out, he gently tucked a curl behind her ear. ”They were … but then, who would have imagined that when I walked into your office, we’d end up here?”

"Oh, I imagined it," Felicity said, her eyes sparkling. "I just didn’t think it’d take three years."


	5. Why her? Why did you go to her, when you told me I'd never lose you?

_"Why her? Why did you go to her, when you told me I'd never lose you?"_

Felicity sniffed and threw back the last of the wine in her glass. It wasn’t her first glass and she had a feeling it wouldn’t be her last. But … what else could she do? Sara was amazing, a woman that Felicity admired and respected and wanted to be friends with, honestly. 

And she had Oliver. 

So she had given herself tonight to wallow and drink wine and sing depressing songs at the top of her lungs, so she could get this out of her system and accept the new status quo where Sara had Oliver’s ear and his heart.


	6. You're so beautiful.

_You're so beautiful._

There were so many women to whom he had said those words. When it was to his mother or his sister, he meant it. But most of the time, it had been to random women, women that meant nothing to him—women that were beautiful but not in the way he meant. Because he didn’t know them.

But he knew Felicity in every way a man could know a woman: her soul, her heart, her mind (although there were still a lot of times that she utterly confused him) and her body. So when he said ‘You’re beautiful’ to Felicity, he meant it in every way.


	7. You jump. I jump.

_"You jump. I jump."_

"I cannot believe you like this movie," Felicity said, shaking her head at Oliver and tossing a few popcorn kernels at him. "It’s so cheesy."

He shrugged and grinned at her, pulling her in even closer against his side. ”It’s got good memories for me. I had my first kiss during this movie.” 

Grabbing her tablet, Felicity did a quick Google and then giggled. ”You didn’t have your first kiss until you were twelve? Someone’s a late bloomer.” 

Turning his head, Oliver frowned at her. ”How old were you, then?” 

She didn’t answer, just looked at the TV and started humming My Heart Will Go On. So the only answer was to kiss the answer out of her, which he did.


	8. Oliver, don't you remember me?

_Oliver, don't you remember me?_

His eyebrows knitted together as he looked at her, his eyes as blue and deep and endless as the sea. Or maybe she was the sea and he was the moon—that made sense. Because how else could she explain the pull he had over her, making her surge closer to him only to pull back when she reminded herself that he didn’t remember her.

But this time, when she stepped back, he followed her. There was a light in his eyes now, bright and shining at her. And then his hands were reaching up to cup her face, and she was breathing faster, because he had to remember to do that, to touch her just like their only kiss, and then his lips were covering hers, kissing her slow and soft and sweet, and she knew he remembered her.


	9. Give me a reason to go on. Just one!

_"Give me a reason to go on. Just one!"_

"One?" he said, invading her space, crowding against her and making her mind fog up with the power of his body, the impact of having him so close. "Just one? Oh, I’ll give you a reason." 

And faster than a metahuman, his hands were pulling her face up, his lips crashing against hers, and she was falling, but he was holding her up, keeping her safe, giving her all the reasons in the world wrapped up in the most important one: he loved her. 

And then, as if he wasn’t sure she had gotten the message, he pulled back slightly, his lips almost brushing hers, and whispered, “Marry me, and I’ll give you a new reason every day to go on. Please, Felicity.”


	10. Is it really possible to have a computer in your brain? Like it can actually happen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guest appearance from my previous fandom in this one! :-)

_"Is it really possible to have a computer in your brain? Like it can actually happen?"_

Felicity laughed softly. ”I doubt it—I mean, your brain is kinda already a computer, so it doesn’t make much sense, but it’s still a good show.” 

Stroking her hair, he nodded. 

"You know … they remind me of us," she said softly.

Looking down at her, Oliver grinned, wondering what she was about to say. ”How do you figure?”

She smiled. ”Badass blonde meets and falls in love with adorable nerd. QED.”

He wasn’t quite sure what QED meant, but … she was kissing him now. They ended up missing the rest of the episode and half of the next one, but he didn’t mind very much.


	11. So was it good for you too?

_"So was it good for you too?"_

He’d never asked that question and meant it. Because before, it had always been a given—he knew how to give a woman a night of no-holds-barred, energetic sex. 

But until Felicity, until last night … he hadn’t known how to make love. She had taught him that, just like she had taught him so many things. And he just wanted to know if what she had experienced had been like the shattering, life-completing revelation he had realized over the course of their first night together.

For the rest of his life, he thought he would remember this. When she looked up at him, and smiled, her eyes soft, before nodding. ”It was everything, Oliver.” 

And in that moment, Oliver Queen finally came home, eight years after he had sailed away on the Queen’s Gambit.


	12. When did you know?

_"When did you know?"_

"You sure you want to know?" Oliver asked, gazing at Felicity.

She nodded emphatically. ”I wanna know.” 

"The honest truth … I knew when you hugged me, in the Watchtower. After you told me that I wasn’t alone and you believed in me." He watched as he spoke, searching her face for any sign of disappointment or sadness—but there was nothing there but peaceful contentment. So he went further and told her the rest. "But I know now that I had fallen in love with you the minute we met … it just took me that long to figure it out." 

Felicity’s eyes were soft blue pools. ”Yeah?”

Leaning down, he kissed her slowly, his hand stroking her cheek. ”Yes, Felicity. Why else would I remember the color of your pen?”


	13. You're crushing my hand.

_"You're crushing my hand."_

Her whisper made Oliver realize just how tightly his fingers were wrapped around hers. ”Oh, sorry!” he said, loosening his grip.

The smile Felicity gave him sparkled even more than the diamond chips that studded the headpiece she wore: the one that held her wedding veil in place. ”Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. And neither are you.”

Holding back a snort of laughter, he smiled at her and whispered, “No chance of that—not until you’re Felicity Smoak-Queen.” 

And together, they turned to face the justice of the peace who was waiting to marry them in front of their family and friends.


	14. Felicity was dancing in her office

_He still can't get the image out of his mind, the last time he stepped into her office, but on entering it he finds himself stopping at the entrance. Felicity was dancing in her office_

Her back was to the door as she moved to the beat, some uptempo pop song that he sort-of recognized, even with his limited time for current music. She was humming along, her hips moving, her hands running through her loose hair and then sweeping up over her head. 

It made him wonder what she would do if he stepped up behind her and slid one hand onto her hip as he pressed up against her ass. Would she gasp and jerk away? Or … or would she slide one hand to the back of his neck and hold him in place, moving her body with his? 

"So it’s gonna be forever or it’s gonna go down in flames—Oliver!" 

He had been so lost in his daydreams that he hadn’t realized she had turned around. She was breathing a bit heavily and her forehead looked slightly shiny. Her face was flushed from exertion—and probably embarrassment. But she didn’t look away from him, she didn’t move to turn off the music. And something about the look in her eyes made him step forward and speak, to tell her what he had been trying to say ever since he came back. 

"Forever, Felicity. It’s gonna be forever."


	15. Oliver, would you care to explain this?

_"Oliver, would you care to explain this?"_

No good ever came from that question—at least, that had always been Oliver’s experience, until now. Because Felicity was holding a a giant box of condoms, her eyes dancing with mischief as she smirked at him.

"Would you believe I actually was a Boy Scout, for about a month, and that whole ‘be prepared’ motto really stuck with me?" he asked, putting a little bit of swagger into his walk as he moved towards her. 

"No," she said, her voice sounding ever-so-slightly breathy. 

"Good," he said, grinning at her, "because really, there is no way in hell I’m going to let anything stop me from being with you while we’re on this trip."

"Oliver, we’re only going to be gone for a week—umph!" she started to protest, until he cut her off with a kiss. A kiss that led to the first of many times one of them dipped a hand into that box of condoms.


	16. You baked cookies?

_"You baked cookies?"_  
_"Not just any cookies, Macadamia nut with white chocolate, the holy grail of cookies"_

Oliver froze, staring at Felicity as she lifted a cookie to her mouth. ”Stop!”

So startled that she actually jumped, Felicity let go of her cookie. She looked down at the floor and the shattered remnants of her own little piece of heaven, then lifted her eyes to glare at him. ”Oliver, what the **hell**?” she asked, advancing on him and getting into his personal space. ”I. Dropped. My. Cookie.”

"I—I thought you were allergic to nuts!"

"To _peanuts_ ,” she said, emphasizing the word. ”They’re a legume, not a nut! Unlike macadamias, which are perfectly safe for me to eat. Which you should have realized, since I baked the damn things!”

He blinked, that confused look that unfairly made him look even hotter. ”Oh.” 

Her hand whipped out and yanked away the cookie she had given him. ”That’s it. No cookie for you.” She crammed the whole warm gooey delicious treat into her mouth, still glaring up at him as she chewed. 

For the rest of their lives, she could never get Oliver to admit why he kissed her at that moment. But from then on, she always thought of white chocolate macadamia nut cookies as Kiss Me Cookies. Because whenever she baked them, Oliver never failed to do just that.


	17. would you like anything else, Mr Queen?

_"would you like anything else, Mr Queen?"_

Narrowing his eyes, Oliver walked slowly towards Felicity, sliding the jacket to his tuxedo off. He noticed her eyes flick over him briefly and he let one corner of his mouth twist up into a smirk. ”As a matter of fact, Ms. Smoak, there is.” 

"It’d be my pleasure to assist you," she said, her voice soft and her eyes locked on his. 

For a moment, Oliver faltered. Because … because why were they playing games when they could be halfway to bliss by now? 

"Mr. Queen?" 

Oh, right. That. The way she made his name sound so unbearably hot, in a way that didn’t remind him of his father, which was a fucking miracle, really, and—

And he was kissing her deeply, one hand sunk deep into her hair, the other sliding down low on her back, and she was kissing him back, one hand gripping one of his suspenders, and … yeah. No more games.


	18. I want you to teach me how to fight.

_"I want you to teach me how to fight."_  
 _"No."_   
_"Self-defence?"_

"No, Felicity!" he snapped, before turning away from her and rubbing his hands over his face. 

"Oliver," she said softly, resting her hand on his shoulder. "I don’t want to be a burden on you. I mean, I’ll never be a fighter like you or Digg or Roy, but … but I need to know how to keep myself safe until you can get to me." 

"You shouldn’t be anywhere near danger," he said, staring down at the ground. 

The toes of her bright blue pumps entered his vision, taking position between his boot-clad feet. ”Tough,” she said, her voice full of steel and all the love she had for him. ”Because I’m gonna be wherever you are, and you have a really disturbing knack for finding danger. Like, all the time.” 

He lifted his head, seeing the smile on her face, and he felt his shoulders slump even as he wrapped his arms around her. ”I do, don’t I?” 

Felicity nodded, her hands resting on his hips. ”Yep. So will it be Digg, Roy, or you training me?” 

Giving her a small smirk, he pulled her closer. ”If you’re going to get self-defense lessons, you’re going to get them from the best.”

"So Digg then?" she asked, grinning at him even as he lowered his head to kiss her.


	19. Olllliverrrr, I can't feel my nose! I don't gots a noseee.

_Felicity had to get her wisdom teeth taken out, and Oliver is pretty sure Felicity on anesthesia is the greatest thing he's ever seen, "Olllliverrrr, I can't feel my nose! I don't gots a noseee."_

God, she’s adorable. ”I promise, Felicity, you’ve got a nose.” 

She looks up at him, her eyes so big and blue and trusting, full of belief in him, and suddenly she’s not adorable anymore, she’s beautiful and perfect and … not his. ”Oliver?” 

"I’m here," he says, taking her hand and holding it as tightly as he dares—not as tight as he wants, though. 

Her eyes flutter, then start to drift shut. ”Wish you’d touch me when I’d remember it …” she said, her voice trailing off as she fell asleep.

Oliver gazed at her, taking in her peaceful face, her soft skin and bright hair. ”Yeah. Me, too.”


	20. "Why are you doing this? " she asked, her voice cracking.

_"Why are you doing this? " she asked, her voice cracking._

"Because look at yourself, Felicity!" Diggle says—or more like yells, right in her face. "You’re not eating, you’re not sleeping, and from the smell you’re not showering. You’re down here 24/7, looking for Oliver—but even with how good you are, Felicity, you’re not going to find him." 

She turns away from him, going back to her computers. ”I’ll find him,” she says, her voice trembling. ”He’s not gone.” 

Diggle sighs heavily. His footsteps are heavy as he walks away, leaving her alone. All alone in the Foundry, just like she once accused Oliver of wanting to be. 

Alone to die.


	21. Will you go with me to my doctors appointment, I'm scared.

_Will you go with me to my doctors appointment, I'm scared._

Oliver blinks. ”Scared—is something wrong, Felicity?” He reaches out, his hand holding her elbow as he searches her face. 

She bites her lip and then shakes her head. ”No, not wrong … I mean, I don’t think it’s wrong, it’s just—it’s just scary, because—” She looks at him and takes a deep breath. ”I think I’m pregnant.” 

He blinks again, feeling the ground shift beneath his feet. ”Pregnant?” he says softly, unable to stop himself from cupping her face in his hands. 

Felicity nods, her eyes filling with tears. ”Yeah. So … so I wanted you to come with me, because … I needed to hold your hand through all this.” 

"Of course," he says, taking a step closer to her. "Of course, Felicity. Because … because this isn’t something to be scared about." 

"it isn’t?"

"No," he says, gazing at her, feeling his heart beat faster. "It’s something to be happy about." He strokes his thumb against her cheek. "So happy, Felicity."


	22. where is my ice cream?!

_"where is my ice cream?!"_

Everyone in the Foundry—Oliver, Roy, Diggle and Laurel—turned around slowly at the sound of Felicity Smoak-Queen’s Loud Voice.

"I put a pint of mint chip in there two days ago and it’s gone!" Felicity said, wringing her hands together. "I need it!" 

As one, everyone but Oliver took a step back, with Diggle, the only one with up-close experience handling a pregnant partner, muttering softly to Oliver, “Good luck, brother.” 

_What about ‘never leave a brother behind’? and all that_ , Oliver thought to himself as he put a reassuring smile on his face. “Felicity, I think you finished off that pint last night—” 

"No." 

"What?" Oliver asked, actually taking a moment to consider if his very-clear memory of Felicity polishing off said pint—so vigorously that her spoon went through the bottom of the container—was only a hallucination.

Felicity’s face crumpled. 

"Okay, okay," Oliver said quickly, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around her. "Roy’s gonna go get you some ice cream, and Digg and Laurel will cover patrol, and you and me, we’ll talk, okay?" 

Nodding, Felicity buried her face against his neck. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, sniffing. “It’s the hormones—I feel crazy and I know you don’t need a crazy IT girl …” 

"I need you," he said, holding her tightly. "You, Felicity." He glanced back and smiled a little at the sight of an empty Foundry. 

And as Felicity sighed and slowly slid her arms around his waist, pulling herself in against him and pressing her softly rounded stomach against his abs, Oliver found himself grateful for the way his wife could demolish a pint of ice cream.


	23. Are you alone?

_"Are you alone?"_

Glancing around, Felicity bit her lip. ”Um … not really …” 

"That’s right, the cocktail party for those investors is tonight," Oliver said, his voice low and caressing, making heat pool in her belly. "That’s too bad … there were some things I wanted to say to you …" 

"I swear to God, if you called me up to have phone sex when you knew full well that I would be at this party for at least two hours, you will regret it," Felicity whispered, gripping the phone tightly. 

"Then I guess it’s good I just wanted to say I love you and you’ll knock ‘em dead. See you at home, Felicity." 

She yanked the phone away from her ear, glaring at the screen when she saw he had already hung up. ”Oh, I am gonna make you regret that, Oliver Jonas Queen.”


	24. I don't remember that dress.

_"I don't remember that dress."_

Felicity looks over her shoulder, her blonde waves swishing against her bare back, and smiles at him. ”It’s new—that’s why you don’t remember it.” 

His eyes run from the tips of her high gold stilettos to the top of her head, lingering over her dress. It’s a halter, in a creamy golden silk, that leaves most of her back uncovered. 

She bought it for him. 

"Is that so?" he asks, and she feels her cheeks go pink as she realizes she said that out loud. But she just nods, and smiles at him, and he smiles back as he crosses the room in three long strides to kiss her slowly.


	25. We were on a break!

_"We were on a break!"_

Felicity rolls her eyes and throws some popcorn at him. ”Of course of all the great lines on Friends, you’d remember that one.” 

He shrugs one shoulder, part sheepish and part apologetic. ”That was back in my Ollie days.” 

She scoots over and rests her chin on his shoulder. ”But now you’re Oliver—my Oliver—and you will never say those words ever again.” 

"That’s right," he says, gazing at her. "Because you’re my lobster."


	26. You're only allowed in here if there are hot wings in that bag

_"You're only allowed in here if there are hot wings in that bag"_

"Believe me, all those years of working in IT gave me insight into how men work when it comes to Super Bowl Sunday," Felicity says, breezing into the loft, hearing the voices of John and Roy and surprisingly Lyla coming from the other room. "So yes, there are hot wings." She hands him the bag and then unbuttons her coat.

Oliver’s so busy looking in the bag and grinning at the variety of hot wings that he doesn’t notice her outfit. So Felicity clears her throat and grins when he glances at her, then does a double-take. 

Because it’s not every day she wears a Starling Settlers football jersey, one that’s so large on her that it’s slipping off her bare shoulder. After all, it’s Oliver’s jersey, his lucky jersey that she swiped last week. The one he called her about this morning, frantic because he couldn’t find it—the one she told him she had ‘accidentally’ taken back to her place but had promised she’d get back to him in time for tonight’s game. 

"As promised … here’s your jersey," she says, stepping close to him, close enough that the heat from the wings seeps through to her skin. And then the wings are gone and it’s Oliver’s body heat soaking into her as he kisses her deeply. 

And then the jersey becomes her lucky one, too.


	27. Sometimes I wonder if all this is even worth it

_Sometimes I wonder if all this is even worth it_

The words are whispered to his back so quietly that he’s sure she didn’t mean for him to hear them. She’s patching him up yet again, after another night when he risked his life for this city that will never know just what Oliver Queen has given up for it—not just his fortune but his health and, for a while, his happiness. 

But none of that mattered. Not to him. Not when Felicity was here with him, in this cold and dank basement, when she deserved to be enjoying a picnic under the stars before falling asleep on thousand thread-count sheets. 

Turning around, he looked up at her and takes her hand. ”It’s worth it, because we’re here and we’re together.”

And when she smiles softly at him, and steps closer, Oliver feels richer than he ever has before.


	28. Felicity may have gotten hurt..

_"Felicity may have gotten hurt.." - Roy to Oliver._

"May have?" he repeats, stepping in close to Roy and looming over him.

Roy steps back, holding his hands up. ”Easy there, boss. Digg took her to Starling Memorial to get checked out, just in case her ankle was worse than it looked. And she yelled at me a lot for making her trip, although she said she didn’t use her Loud Voice since I managed to save the fern.” 

Looking across the Foundry, seeing the bright green fronds of their fern, Oliver feels his lips quirking in a tiny smile. Then he looks back at Roy and points at him. ”You’re not fully off the hook, but … good job.” He smiles wider, slaps Roy on the shoulder and only slightly pulls his punch, and goes to change so he can get to the hospital.


	29. I know Ollie better then anyone

_I know Ollie better then anyone - laurel to felicity_

Felicity knows what Laurel’s doing. She’s pushing her, trying to start a fight. Because while Felicity doesn’t know Laurel better than anyone, one thing she does know about the lawyer/newly-minted vigilante is that Laurel doesn’t accept loss easily. No, she fights it, tooth and nail, eyes blazing, with every bit of her soul—if she was in a comic book, Laurel’s hair would snap from the angry electricity that flows off her.

So even though it’s on the tip of her tongue to snap back—to say that Laurel might have known Ollie better than anyone, but Felicity knows Oliver better than anyone and he loves her and she loves him—she doesn’t. Instead she just nods and turns away, picking up her coat and driving home, to an empty apartment and a carton of mint chip.


	30. Felicity, where is my hood.

_Felicity, where is my hood._

"Where you left it!" Felicity says, racing down the steps into the Foundry after Oliver. She has the skirt of her evening gown hoisted up, revealing her sparkly sandals, and she’s wishing she had remember to bring back her spare set of clothes.

"I don’t remember where you took it off me and threw it last night," Oliver says dryly, an amused tone in his voice as he looks back at her. 

Felicity stops and can’t help smirking a little. ”Oh, yeah, right. I threw it over there,” she says, gesturing towards the workout mats and then drawing up short when she sees the extended Team Arrow standing there.

Roy turns to everyone and holds out his hands. ”Pay up. I had the closest date in the pool to today. And I get the bonus for it being an accidental discovery.”


	31. Uh... ray has a super suit and likes to fight crime at night too.

_Uh... ray has a super suit and likes to fight crime at night too._

"Oh," Oliver says, his eyes widening for a split second before glancing over at Ray. Then his eyes come back to hers, and Felicity just knows what he’s thinking. That Ray is nice, well-adjusted, a genius like her—that he’s doing the superhero vigilante thing out of pure motives and good intentions, which makes him the perfect fit for her. 

Which is why Felicity steps forward and sets her hands on Oliver’s shoulders, drawing him down towards her. ”I love you, Oliver,” she says softly, gazing into his eyes and willing him to kiss her, willing him to see that it doesn’t matter if Ray is the perfect fit, because Oliver is the right fit.

And he gets it, because he closes the remaining distance between them to kiss her softly and sweetly—a kiss that says ‘hello’ instead of ‘goodbye’ like all their other kisses.


	32. Tell me you didn't mean it.

_"Tell me you didn't mean it."_

He gazes at her, his heart in his throat. Not even sure how he managed to squeeze those words out, but now that he has, he’s determined to see this through and get the real truth from her. 

Felicity’s smile is soft, yet still as bright as the sun. ”I do mean it. Every word, Oliver.” She pauses, then smirks at him. ”I’m better at poker than you are—which should be obvious.” 

And as he took in her fully-clothed-except-for-one-sock state, and his utter nakedness, Oliver had to agree that she was right. She was better than him at poker. But he was a lot better at turning the tables. So he leaned back, stretching his arms over his head and letting his abs flex, and watched her eyes go wide.


	33. Oh no. No. Nonono. Don't you dare.

"Oh no. No. Nonono. Don't you dare."

"Oh, I dare," Oliver says, coming towards her and lifting her up, throwing her over his shoulder and using one arm, clamped around her thighs, to hold her in place.

Felicity gasps, shrieks, then half-heartedly pounds on his back. ”Oliver Queen, put me down! You are not just carrying me off to bed like this—not now!” 

"Yes, I am—you haven’t slept for over twenty-four hours and if you keep going, you’re going to make a mistake." 

Sighing, Felicity slumps against him, knowing he’s right but hating it. ”But my brain just won’t stop working—there’s no way I’ll be able to sleep.”

They’ve reached her bedroom by now, and Oliver sets her down on the ground and smirks at her. ”That’s why I’m here. To exhaust you until you can sleep.” And then he swoops in to kiss her, and argh, it’s so caveman of him, to carry her to her room and then kiss her and expect her to go along with all of this—why doesn’t he just club her over the head … for good—

She’ll tell him how angry she is with him later. In the morning.


	34. Oliver is with Felicity.

_Oliver is with Felicity._

Thea does a double-take at Roy. ”Wait, seriously—they’re together? I mean, they practically act married, but … they’re really together, like for real?” 

"You didn’t know?!?" Roy looks horrified, like he’s seeing his whole life flash before his eyes. 

"No! I didn’t know!" she says, moving out from behind the bar. "But believe me, he’s gonna wish he had told me." She holds her phone up to Roy. "I’ve been moving his naked baby pictures from one phone to the next, waiting for the day I could show them to the girl that was the One. And trust me, from the way my brother’s making heart eyes at her? Felicity’s the One."


	35. Clearly not anymore.

_Clearly not anymore._

"What did you say, Speedy?" Oliver says, trying to sound amused but failing. But then, Thea knows he’s feeling embarrassed at getting caught making out with his girlfriend. Especially by his little sister. 

"I was going to say I was worried about how little you’ve been going out lately—I was all set to ask if you needed to be fixed up with someone," Thea says, unable to stop smiling. "But that problem isn’t one—clearly not anymore." 

Felicity’s gone pink and Oliver is looking sheepish and they’re both so fucking adorable. Thea grins at Felicity. ”I have naked baby photos.” 

Her eyes light up. ”Ooh, gimme!” she says, immediately reaching for Thea’s phone, and Thea can’t help shooting her brother a thumbs-up as Felicity leans in close to the small screen. 

Yeah, Ollie’s got himself a keeper—and he knows it.


	36. i love her.

'i love her.' oliver to ray

Ray nods slowly. ”Of course you do. Anyone can see it—everyone can see it. No offense, you’ve got a reputation as some playboy, but … you practically have ‘I love Felicity Smoak’ tattooed on your forehead.” 

He’s expecting Queen to look confused or defensive, maybe even mad. But instead, he just smiles a little, then gives Ray a small nod. An acknowledgement of the truth of Ray’s words … and perhaps a bit of an apology for how they unknowingly made him an antagonist in their story, when that was the last thing he wanted. 

So Ray, being a decent guy, just nods back and then returns to working on his suit.


	37. I.. uh.. may be three months pregnant.

_I.. uh.. may be three months pregnant._

It’s so quiet in the Foundry, you could hear a pin drop. Or a rat die, if any of the super solider-esque rats in the basement could actually die. 

And then suddenly, Roy and Digg and Oliver are all talking at once, all exclaiming ‘pregnant?!?’ and ‘didn’t you notice if she stopped drinking wine?’ and ‘damn, Blondie, now I know why parts of you were getting … bigger …’

That earns Roy a dirty look from Oliver and a slap on the shoulder from Digg, especially when it makes Felicity sniff and one tear to escape from the corner of her eye. 

Oliver’s there in a heartbeat, wrapping his arms around her and holding her so tightly, just like she’s imagined it since she found out. ”You’re sure?”

She nods against his chest. ”That’s why I waited until three months—to make sure. And also, my periods have been so screwy lately and we’ve been so busy, I didn’t even realize it until my period-tracking app sent me a cute little notification asking if I might be pregnant because I hadn’t recorded a period for three months …”

If possible, his arms get even tighter around her. ”A baby. _Our_ baby, Felicity.” 

He’s so … happy. Happier than she thought he’d be, and she can’t help smiling back at him—no, _beaming_ back at him—as she nods. ”Yeah, Oliver. Our baby.”


	38. Please tell me I haven't lost you.

_"Please tell me I haven't lost you."_

He’s asking too much of her. Because this is more than what happened in the fall, when he couldn’t give her what she needed—when he couldn’t stop dangling maybes. Because he did stop, but in the worst way possible. He wouldn’t blame her in the slightest if she decided to not risk her heart to his care, when it’s so very, very clear that he’s not the right man to protect it. 

Yet he can’t walk away from her for good without making sure there isn’t a chance for them.

So he asks her, but the words have barely left his mouth then her arms are around him and she’s hugging him so tightly and saying, in her Loud Voice, how much she loves him and he’s got another think coming if he thinks he’s lost her, because he’s never had her to begin with and just wait until he sees how hard it is to let her go, and she’s blushing from the innuendo and he’s grinning because she’s never been this explicit with her feelings and … and he hasn’t lost her.


	39. Whatever happens, just remember I love you, and I akways will

_"Whatever happens, just remember I love you, and I akways will"_

Oliver stares at Felicity, then reaches out and grabs her arm. ”No—no, don’t say that.” He steps closer to her, staring into her eyes, even though Starling City’s on the verge of burning all around them. ”Don’t say ‘whatever happens’. Tell me you love me, say it’s forever, but—but don’t—”

He can’t finish it, too shaken up by the prospect that she’s planning something, using that genius brain of hers to come up with a solution that will complete her transition into a fully-fledged hero, a solution that will require her to sacrifice herself, and he cannot let that happen. He needs her. 

Felicity gazes at him, then gives him a soft, sad smile. ”Okay.” She stands up on her tiptoes and kisses him quickly but firmly. Against his lips, she says, “I love you and and I always will.” 

And then she’s gone, moving to intercept Laurel, and he’s got to move, too, but he looks back at her one more time, more determined to keep fighting now than ever before. If only to prevent her from having to put her solution into effect.


	40. Felicity, are you threatening me?

_"Felicity, are you threatening me?"_

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he wishes he could take them back. Because she gets this _glint_ in her eyes, something he’s never seen before, and now she’s walking towards him and damn it, she’s put an extra sway in her hips when she _knows_ what it does to him.

"Why would I need to threaten you when I’ve plenty of weapons?"

Oliver swallows but tries not to let on all the thoughts going through his head. Trying to keep some control in this situation, trying not to give in too quickly, because … because this is fun, even though Felicity looks like she’s going to eat him alive. 

But then she brushes against him, and goes up on her very tip-toes to kiss the spot on his neck just under his ear, and there’s something to be said for losing control.


	41. She's always beautiful. But when she's angry - it's like an entirely new level of hot.

_"She's always beautiful. But when she's angry - it's like an entirely new level of hot."_

He’s fully aware how cliched the whole ‘she’s hot when she’s angry’ thing is, but deep down, underneath the brooding and responsibility, he’s still got that little bit of Ollie inside him. And seeing Felicity advance on him, her eyes snapping behind her glasses and her finger reaching out to poke him in the chest … well, Ollie is really turned on right now. 

And so is Oliver. 

So of course, he grabs her by her upper arms and yanks her in against him, and she gasps softly, her mouth falling open and her eyes widening before she squirms a little. ”I’m mad at you—” 

"I know," he says, their lips an inch apart. "So what are you gonna do about me doing this?" 

Felicity glares at him, then she slides her hand into his hair and kisses him for all she’s worth, and the Ollie side of him is smirking, but Oliver’s too distracted by what Felicity’s mouth is doing to his to let on.


	42. Stop looking at me like that.

_"Stop looking at me like that."_

Felicity can’t help grinning. ”Are you _blushing_?”

"No," he says immediately, turning away from her a little so she can’t see the flush on his cheeks. "I’m going to shower. Since I’m done working out." 

"Mmmmm," she says, leaning back in her chair, one arm moving behind her head as she watches him, his muscles flexing as he moves. 

Oliver throws a look back at her, then walks very fast into the bathroom, and Felicity barely holds back her giggle until he’s out of earshot. Because who would have thought Oliver Queen, Mr. ‘I Work Out Shirtless Because We Both Know You Like It And I Like That You Like It’, was shy now that they were together?


	43. Good God, why the hell did she ever let him use her phone?

Good God, why the hell did she ever let him use her phone?

"A monkey or a Tyrannosaurus Rex would have done less damage!" Felicity mutters, swiping and tapping frantically, trying to figure out just what Oliver did to her phone. She looks over at him briefly, glaring a little, but he just stands there, looking more nervous by the moment, as the fingers on both hands are twitching in his nervous finger-rubbing tic. 

Finally, finally, she’s got her phone unlocked, only to frown as an app comes up: a Hangman game app, something she knows she wouldn’t install because she doesn’t like hangman. ”Did you do this?” she asks, turning the phone so he can see the screen.

He nods. ”Yes. Once you solve the puzzle, the phone will go back to normal.”

Felicity gapes at him. ”How did you figure out how to do that? Wait, I don’t even want to know—I just want my phone to be back to normal, so I can then sit you down for a long conversation about touching my babies!”

For some reason, that makes Oliver grin at her, and he just nods at her phone. ”Better get to guessing letters, then.” 

Oh, she’s gonna make him pay. But he’s right, so she looks at the screen. The puzzle doesn’t look too hard: four words, and two of them are small words. She works logically, beginning with E and then the common consonants. That leaves her with _ _ L L _ _ _ M _ R R _ M E . 

Her forehead wrinkles, and she guesses A, then Y. And then she nearly drops her phone as she whips her head up to look at Oliver.

Who, while she was working on the puzzle, kneeled in front of her and produced a frankly massive diamond ring. But she’s more focused on the look on his face: loving and sheepish and smirking and _hopeful_. 

"Felicity?" he asks softly, and then she’s throwing her arms around him and screaming ‘yes!’ as she knocks them both down onto the mats.


	44. I know what it's like to wait for Oliver Queen to come back from the dead.

_"I know what it's like to wait for Oliver Queen to come back from the dead."_

Laurel’s words have been running through Felicity’s head for days, as reality has oh-so-slowly sunk in. So that’s why she goes to Laurel’s place, holding two gallons of mint chocolate chip (wine is definitely out) and shifting her feet and wondering if she should just go.

When Laurel opens the door, she looks surprised for a moment, because after all, they’re still barely friends. And this is probably the last thing Laurel wants, to spend time with her, the women everyone treats like Oliver’s widow, which is so infuriating because they weren’t together, they had half of one date and one kiss—okay, two kisses—and that was all they got and if she was going to be a widow, at the very least she should have gotten to have a wedding night with Oliver. 

But because Laurel knows what it’s like to be the woman waiting for Oliver, she just smiles at Felicity and opens the door. ”Come in,” she says, her voice full of empathy, and Felicity grips the ice cream tighter, the cold seeping into her hands as she tries not to cry.


	45. Stop whining, Oliver, it's not *that* bad.

"Stop whining, Oliver, it's not *that* bad."

"I’m not whining," Oliver said stubbornly, standing in the doorway of their bathroom with a pout on his lips. If he wasn’t so completely wrong because he was _definitely_ whining, Felicity would think the pout was adorable and would be kissing it off his face.

"Yes, you are," she retorted, turning to face him. "I don’t know why you’re acting like this, Oliver—you were the one who told me to buy a new dress, to get something that made me feel pretty even with this stupid cast!" She waved around the hot-pink cast on her left wrist, acquired during an Arrow mission three days ago. 

"I know," Oliver said, stepping into her personal space. Running his eyes over her, from the top of her curled waves to the tips of her golden stilettos, lingering for a long while on the shimmering halter dress she was wearing, the one that left her back completely bare. She felt her stomach tighten at the look in his eyes—because while there was plenty of lust and desire there, those emotions were totally dwarfed by the love she saw there, too.

He rested one hand oh-so-lightly on her hip and leaned in to whisper in her ear. ”I’m just not sure if I’ll be able to break through your wall of admirers to get enough time with you to propose.” 

"Oliver, really, ‘wall of admirers’? With Thea and Laurel there too, what makes you think—wait." She blinked at him, feeling her heart pound in her chest. "What—what did you say?" 

And then he was kneeling in front of her and holding her hands in his and looking up at her, looking _nervous_ , and he wasn’t—?

"Felicity, will you marry me?"

_Followup_

So often it’s Felicity who’s surprising him. So part of him liked seeing her stare at him, her eyes the size of silver dollars and her mouth hanging open in shock. Making Felicity Smoak speechless is an accomplishment.

But asking her to become Felicity Queen was bound to cause this reaction. Because he’s not a catch, not really. He was still recovering financially from losing Queen Consolidated, he spent his nights risking his life in spite of nearly dying just last year, before her his relationship history was deplorable, and there was still plenty of unresolved issues from his five years in hell. 

So he understood she’d need a few moments to decide. To weigh her heart against her mind and decide if—

"I can’t believe you’re kneeling." 

Oliver did a double-take. ”What?” 

Totally ignoring the fact that her dress is satin and easily wrinkled, Felicity kneeled down in front of him, staring into his eyes. ”You kneeled. Like—like you think being subservient to me shows how much you love me. But that’s not us. We’re partners and that means we’re equal and I don’t want you to ever feel like you don’t deserve me because you _do_ , Oliver.” She cupped his face with her non-injured hand, not letting him look away from her. ”Do you understand?” 

Those words echoed in his mind, and although the situations are so dissimilar, they act like a touchstone for him. So he nodded and licked his lips. ”Does that mean …?” 

She blinked, and then her face goes red. ”Oh my God—yes! Yes, Oliver, yes, yes, I want to marry you!” 

One of them has to move first, or maybe they move together, but their arms wrapped around each other and he’s holding her as tight as he can, and while he wants to say he never again doubts his worth when it comes to Felicity, that’s not true. 

But it sure as hell happens a lot less once she’s wearing his ring, once she’s Felicity Queen (although she stays Felicity Smoak professionally), once she’s his forever.


	46. If you have something to say, use your words oliver!

_"If you have something to say, use your words oliver! And stop being all grr I'm the Arrow to intimidate me. It doesn't work."_

Someday, he would need to figure out just why Felicity Smoak seemed to always get her way with him. Because from the moment he had walked into her office and she gave him that head tilt when he fed her a ridiculous lie, she had never stopped calling him on his bullshit … and he always let her.

Felicity eyed him, her arms crossed over her chest and her foot tapping, clearly waiting with a high degree of impatience for him to start explaining himself. 

Oliver opened his mouth and closed it, trying to come up with something—anything. After a few moments, Felicity sighed and turned back to her computers, her fingers tapping emphatically against the keys, in a way that made her frustration with him very, very clear. 

Gazing at her ponytail, Oliver realized that he didn’t need to figure anything out. He already knew. But he couldn’t let himself know that, because he was Oliver Queen and the Arrow and a real romance, with a woman he actually liked, was not in the cards for him.


	47. "What's HE doing here?" he growled.

_"What's HE doing here?" he growled._

Felicity yelped at the sound of Ray’s voice and moved around Oliver to face her boss, stumbling a little. ”Ray! Hi! I—I thought you were on that conference call to Beijing …” 

"I was, but I opened the folder you gave me, the one with your notes for the call … only to discover a page full of doodles?" Ray said, his jaw tight as he lifted up the page from the manila folder.

Doodles? What—“Oh, no,” Felicity moaned, realizing what the doodles were. 

"Felicity?" Oliver asked softly, standing beside her and resting his hand on her back. "What’s wrong?" 

"Nothing, nothing!" she said, snatching the sheet of paper from Ray and then hurrying over to her desk. "Sorry, Ray, you know how it is—you’re a genius, you must have mixed up folders at some point, right? Here you go, now you can finish your call, and Oliver, you probably should head on out, Digg’s probably double-parked and getting tickets from Captain Lance himself." 

In spite of the difference in their IQs, both men reacted alike: blinking as they were swept along by Felicity. Which was just what she wanted when she unleashed the babble. 

Because the last thing she wanted to explain, to her boyfriend or her boss, was why she had been doodling variations on Felicity Meghan Queen, Felicity Smoak-Queen, Mrs. Oliver Queen and more, like a schoolgirl with her first boyfriend.


	48. Okay, if the two of you are going to be doing that down here . . .

_"Okay, if the two of you are going to be doing that down here, we're going to need some ground. Where a bell, send a text, something! So that I can still Felicity in the eye the next day"_

"Roy," Oliver growled, tugging his shirt down and blocking Roy from watching as Felicity quickly does up her buttons. "Maybe you should just leave it alone." 

"Oh, no," Roy said emphatically, pointing a finger at them. "You two are like my parents, and I do _not_ need to know what kind of sex life you have.”

There’s a gasp and then Felicity is stepping around Oliver to advance on Roy like a lion stalking her prey. ”WHAT?!? I am only four years older than you, mister! How does that make me like your mom?” She folded her arms over her chest, pinning Roy under her glare, and Oliver can’t help smirking a little. 

"You were the one who said I’d be in so much trouble with Oliver if he knew I’d taken out his bike!" Roy protested, only for his face to immediately fall. "Oh, crap." 

Felicity’s shoulders relaxed and she looked back at Oliver, a triumphant expression on her face. ”You’re up … ‘Dad’.”


	49. You know exactly what I'm talking about.

_"You know exactly what I'm talking about."_

"No idea," Felicity said, standing up and walking over to the large touchscreen, her heels clacking and her ponytail bouncing. 

He has to laugh a little in admiration of what she’s doing, even as he felt his body respond to her. ”You know exactly what your ass does to me, and you’re not above using it against me.”

When she rests her hands against the table in front of the touchscreen and leans forward a little, her body curving to display herself to her best advantage, he’s done laughing. 

"Really, Mr. Queen, it’s a good thing you’re not my boss anymore, or else I might have to get Human Resources involved in this … dispute," Felicity said, turning to look at him over her shoulder, her eyes challenging and come-hither and shy all at once. 

And with that, he’s done with the banter and walking forward, spinning her around and kissing her with everything he’s got, pressing against her and backing her up against the touchscreen and not caring that parts of her are selecting various areas and setting off several alerts, because she needed to know, without any doubt, what she did to him.

_Followup_

The fact that the alerts have rolled over to his phone mean that neither Oliver or Felicity have disabled them. And that has John drawing his gun even before he’s at the door to the basement. He punched in the security code and yanked the door open, making himself step lightly as he entered the Foundry. 

As he slowly eased down the stairs, his eyes sweeping around him, he can hear occasional noises—noises that make the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Because they don’t fit with the alerts he was getting, with the attack that must be happening … 

And then he reached the bottom of the stairs and turned enough to see Oliver and Felicity. And seeing enough to know he shouldn’t be seeing anything, after watching the two of them for the last three years, made John Diggle do something he never thought he’d do. 

"Seriously? I never thought I’d miss last summer, but I sure as hell do." 

His words make the Foundry go silent for a moment, and then there’s a flurry of activity. 

"Digg—" Oliver said, his voice sounding strained as he rights his clothing—John told himself he didn’t hear a zipper being closed, but he knows he’s lying to himself—"What—why—"

"Whatever you two are doing, which I so do not want to know and never needed to have any knowledge of, caused a bunch of alerts to go off," John said, noticing how Felicity has already recognized what that beeping noise is and is at her computer. She resets the alarm and looked at John, her face sheepish and shy and embarrassed. 

But underneath all that, he can see her happiness. The happiness that shines out of Oliver’s eyes, too, something he thought he’d never see.

When he tells Lyla this story tonight, she’ll say he’s gone soft. But John was pretty sure if Lyla had been there, too, she’d be cooing about how adorable Oliver and Felicity are together. So instead of busting them any more, he just sighed and pointed at each of them. 

"Remember that first case after Felicity came on board and she locked down the system and Oliver unlocked it?" 

They nod in unison, and John raised an eyebrow. ”Keep remembering that.”

He turned and headed for the stairs, hearing soft whispers and then a deep chuckle, and he can’t help smiling a little as he exited the Foundry. Especially when he immediately hears the beep of the door locking from the outside.


	50. If you loved me at all, you wouldn't do this.

_"If you loved me at all, you wouldn't do this."_

He can hear the catch in his voice, knows that she can see the tears in his eyes, but … but he’s at his breaking point. Because she can’t ask him to let her sacrifice herself as part of her crazy plan, not when they’ve finally stopped wasting time and are together and he knows just what it feels like to be loved by Felicity Smoak.

In a word, it’s _everything_. And she’s asking him to give that—to give _them_ —up, and while it’s impossible for him to not do what she asks, she can’t ask him to do this. 

Through her glasses, he can see that she’s on the verge of crying, too. Her hand is soft against his cheek as she pulls him down for a kiss, and he doesn’t want to kiss her when it feels like a goodbye, but just as much, he can’t risk not kissing her one more time. 

And then she’s gone, and Oliver Queen realizes that Felicity loves him so much that until tonight, she’s always spared him from what she has to deal with every night. 

The waiting.


	51. I never noticed *that* before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favorite prompt ficlets.

_"I never noticed *that* before."_

She’s been waiting for him to notice it, actually, even though he probably wasn’t looking for an extra scar on her body beyond the one on her shoulder from Tockman and her wisdom teeth scar. And this scar wasn’t one she could have shared casually, like Digg and Sara and Oliver had, that day in the Foundry.

His fingers are feather-light as he brushed them over the thin white line on her lower belly, halfway between her belly button and her hipbone. He looked up at her, curiosity and concern warring in his eyes, and the fact that he doesn’t want to ask because he’s worried about hurting her makes her love him all the more.

"When I was twenty-two, about six months before we met … I had a one-night stand and I—I had a birth control fail," she said, looking straight at him and trying to sound normal. "And then, the pregnancy was ectopic—do you know … ?" 

He had gone still as soon as she started explaining, barely breathing she thought, but when she let her voice trail off in an unexpressed question, he nodded, his eyes not looking away from hers. Giving her all of his attention and warmth and love. 

"They had to take my ovary," she said, her voice breaking a little. "It’s funny, I still could get pregnant, it’s not like it’s impossible … but when they told me what they had to do, I couldn’t help wondering if—if maybe—" 

And then Oliver is holding her, his arms so tight around her, and Felicity realized she’s been waiting for this hug since the day she woke up in her hospital bed, all alone and feeling scared and betrayed. 

It’s worth the wait, especially two years later when their daughter is put into her arms and she can see how happy Oliver is.


	52. You're going to be okay, Oliver.

_"You're going to be okay, Oliver."_

He blinked as he turned at the sound of Tatsu’s voice. If she was anyone else, he would say she sounded sympathetic, which … is not an emotion he’d expect to receive from her. 

"You talk in your sleep," she said, looking at him, her voice dull yet firm. "You keep saying ‘Felicity’. You love her, don’t you?"

After what just happened, he’s not sure why she wants to talk about this—he’s not sure he wants to talk about it. But he still nodded slowly.

Tatsu looked down. ”That’s good. You need something to live for. Or else you’ll waste all my work.” She shot him a look, a look he’s seen dozens of times before: one that said he was just a dumb _gaijin_ who was lucky to have her around, taking pity on him.

And Oliver can’t help smiling, just a little, at how right she is.


	53. I don't want to be a woman you love.

_"I don't want to be a woman you love."_

"I—I don’t understand—" Oliver said, feeling his heart pound and his fingers twitch. Because for once, he thought he might get a happy story: that they’d have a reunion that was like something out of a movie, with their eyes meeting and nothing getting in their way, and she would kiss him and he’d tell her he loved her and maybe, just maybe, she’d say she loved him, too.

Felicity’s eyes are full of tears, but they’re tears of anger and frustration. ”I don’t want to be a woman you love, because it doesn’t change anything, Oliver. You still won’t be with me—please, don’t,” she said, holding her trembling hand up as he opened his mouth, halting him as he tried to come closer. 

And that freezes him in place—freezes him, body and soul, making his heart feel like a block of ice in his chest.


	54. I am not taking responsibility for this.

_"I am not taking responsibility for this."_

Diggle stared at him. ”The hell?”

Oliver shook his head wildly. ”I can’t, John. Felicity would never forgive me.” 

"Wait a second," Roy said, bringing over one of the push brooms from Verdant. "You’re freaking out over Felicity’s reaction to you breaking the fern?"

"I didn’t break the fern!" Oliver said, frantically repotting the fern. "I broke the pot. But if she realizes what I did, she’ll give me that look, and then I’ll be sleeping on the couch, and—"

"Whoa, we’re not going there," Diggle said, holding up a hand. "Okay, let’s get this cleaned up."

Roy grumbled and pushed the broom across the floor. ”Why are we helping him again?” he muttered to Digg.

"Remember last summer? That was before he knew what sleeping with Felicity was like. You wanna deal with a sexually frustrated Oliver, be my guest and stop helping,” Digg said, keeping his voice low and glancing over to make sure Oliver wasn’t listening.

Roy’s eyes went wide and he started sweeping double time.


	55. Please don't go.

_Please don't go._

Oliver smiled a little as he leaned in to kiss Felicity. ”I’ll be back in a half hour. With donuts. And coffee.” 

"Mmmm …" she whispered against his lips, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Got coffee here … who needs anything else?"

"Your stomach was rumbling so loud, I thought a truck was driving into the apartment downstairs."

The pout she gets on her face was so ridiculously, wonderfully adorable that he had to kiss her again. She tightened her arms around him, arching up against him, her body soft and warm and amazing. 

He groaned and pulled away. ”You are a little bit evil, Felicity Smoak. Because I know how you get when you’re hungry.”

"And how do I get?" she asked with a quirked eyebrow, propping herself up on her elbows, the sheet only just covering her breasts. 

Blinking, Oliver tries to look away from the sight before him: Felicity, her hair mussed, naked under that sheet, gazing at him with an expression that mixes challenge with love. 

And suddenly, the last thing that Oliver wants is donuts.


	56. Now we're even!

_"Now we're even!"_

Oliver panted, staring up at Felicity. He was flat on his back on the training mats, and Felicity was standing over him with her arms akimbo, hands planted on her yoga pant-clad hips. Her very curvy hips, covered in tight black lycra … 

Although it was pretty amazing he even noticed her lower half, considering she wasn’t wearing anything above her waist.

"Wh—what made you—" he gasped out, trying to wrap his mind around a topless Felicity.

Her grin was wide and beaming, verging on a smirk. She crouched down, the lights overhead throwing shadows over her breasts, and he cursed how they were positioned so he couldn’t get a better look at her. Which he shouldn’t be doing, since they had just started a relationship and he should be giving her the same respect he always had and the fact that she was letting him see her without a shirt on shouldn’t change that, right?

And shit, she was leaning down, one hand bracing herself on his sweaty chest so she could whisper in his ear. “I told you, Oliver,” she said, “now we’re even.” 

He blinked. “The hell we are,” he said, before his arms wrapped around her and drew her down against him for a long, deep, kiss.

Later on, Felicity agreed that they weren’t even. And that it would probably take her a while to be shirtless in the Foundry as many times as he had been.


	57. I'm sorry, Felicity.

_"I'm sorry, Felicity."_

Felicity blinked, turning to look at Oliver in confusion amid the hustle and bustle of Starling’s airport. Donna was coming to visit for a long weekend—one that was not financed by a murderous ex-boyfriend, thankfully. No, this one was partially financed by a newly-restored-to-riches current boyfriend. But Donna’s flight was delayed, so they were waiting, sitting outside the security checkpoint with coffee, their hands clasped together. 

"What are you sorry for? Honestly, are you apologizing for the snowstorm that’s making all the flights get all screwy?" She smiled and nudged Oliver’s shoulder with her own. "Do you really think you can control the weather, mister? Because I think Barry’s gone up against some guys who do a better job of it than you." 

Oliver paused, then laughs a little. It reminds her of how he was right before he asked her out the first time. And the second time, too. Almost vibrating with nerves. 

Her eyes narrowed a little. What does Oliver have to be nervous about? He’s already met her mom. Sure, it was as her friend and not her boyfriend, but Donna had made it very clear she was in favor of Felicity dating Oliver. So why …?

He cleared his throat. “I’m not apologizing for the flight being delayed. It’s more about … I can’t wait any longer.” 

"Any longer for—" Felicity started to ask, only to go absolutely silent when Oliver pulls a small box out of his pocket. A box that’s just the right size for a ring.

"This was supposed to happen in front of your mom," he said, looking at her with the softest, shyest, most full-of-love expression in his eyes. "I called to tell her that I was going to do this while she was here, and she said I should do it here at the airport as soon as she arrived. But—but I’ve had this burning a hole in my pocket for weeks, so, um—" 

His cheeks are a bit flushed as he opens the box, revealing a dazzling diamond ring. “Felicity, will you marry me?” 

Felicity blinked. She—she can’t believe this is happening. At least, that’s her first reaction. Then she looked at Oliver and suddenly, it’s easy to believe. Easy to believe that they’re going to spend the rest of their lives together. Easy to believe that any doubts she had, any lingering whispers of ‘unthinkable’ are totally put to rest.

She nods quickly, feeling a huge smile blossom on her face, and Oliver’s smiling, too, and then they’re kissing, and they’re engaged.

When Donna’s plane lands two hours later, she takes one look at Felicity and claps her hands. “As soon as the flight got delayed, I knew he wouldn’t be able to wait,” Donna said as she threw her arms around the both of them. 

And as she hugs her mother, Felicity looked at Oliver and smiled at him.


	58. You had one job, Oliver.

_"You had one job, Oliver."_

He blinked, feeling very confused. ”I know, but I don’t understand—”

"Abort," Diggle said under his breath. "Abort now." 

"No, don’t try and help him, Digg—there’s been way too much male solidarity around this place and I have had it up to here with it," Felicity said, holding her hand as high over her head as she could reach. "But this time, you’re not getting off so easily—I’m done with it." 

Whirling around, she grabbed the empty ice cream container and shoved it against Oliver’s chest. ”The next time you get hungry late at night after patrol, you don’t eat the last of my ice cream and not replace it as soon as possible—unless you don’t ever want to have sex with your very pregnant wife ever again, understand me? Especially given what we’ve discovered lately regarding me and my sex drive.” 

Digg smirked as he looked at the floor. Oliver blinked and nodded jerkily. ”I’ll go get more ice cream. Right now.” 

And just like that, Felicity smiled at him and kissed his cheek. ”The good stuff this time, too. I love you.”


	59. Oliver loves everything about Felicity . . .

_Oliver loves everything about Felicity, with all of his heart, but there is a special place in his heart just for how much he loves her ass._

Normally he’d be embarrassed by the caveman side that her ass brings out in him—or worried that he’d lose control and go too far with her. But … Jesus Christ, it’s amazing and she _knows_ what her ass does to him, and she will use that against him every chance she gets.

How else to explain the dress she’s wearing to this gala? The theme is Old Hollywood, since the gala is in support of the renovation of a historic theater in downtown Starling. And Felicity is standing in front of him, wearing a white satin halter neck gown, one that drapes over her curves in front like his hands want to—but its real evil genius is the back, with her bare back exposed and the material cupping her bottom so perfectly, showcasing the body part that he’s lost so many days watching and so many nights touching?

This means war. So Oliver glides up beside Felicity and lightly rests his hand on her back, standing at her side but angled towards her. And then he brushes back the side of his tuxedo jacket to hook the thumb of his other hand in his suspenders. ”Hey.” 

And when her eyes bounce from his face to his hand playing with his suspenders, then back to his face, now with wide eyes, Oliver grins.


	60. Felicity, if I don't get you out of here, Oliver will kill me anyway.

_Felicity, if I don't get you out of here, Oliver will kill me anyway. - Roy_

Roy grimaced as Felicity let out a giggle and turned around on her bar stool. ”No, he won’tttttttttttt whoopsies!” She grabbed hold of the bar, then giggled again. 

"Felicity, c’mon, he’s waiting for you, he’s probably really worried." Roy has tried to avoid thinking too much about Oliver and Felicity’s relationship, ever since they actually started having one instead of whatever was going on for the year and a half before it, but he does know that if Oliver doesn’t know where Felicity is, he’s gonna lose it. 

"Nope! Nope nope nope!" Felicity chirps, sounding like that baby dinosaur from the frigging Land Before Time movies he used to watch, and that makes Roy shake his head. "Oliver’s not waiting for me, he’s off running a ‘very important errand’," Felicity says, using her fingers to make drunken air quotes. "So I thought I’d do some very important drinking, because my boyfriend doesn’t want to talk to me and this is all gonna be over really soon." 

"No, it’s not."

Oh, thank God, Oliver’s here and he can deal with this. Roy moves away, but not before he sees Oliver pull Felicity off her stool and steady her. And then he’s going down on one knee, and Felicity’s looked shocked, and Roy can’t help smiling. 

He might not know much about their relationship, but it was pretty easy to spot that Oliver was planning to propose. Easy, unless your name was Felicity Smoak.


	61. How did you get in there? // "Oliver. You were suppose to leave at midnight. It's now..." She checks her nighttable, "six am. Now Go!" // "Seriously?" Digg asks. "Did you guys plan NOT to see each other before the wedding?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are three ficlets that tell a whole story in this chapter. Enjoy!

_How did you get in there?_

Oliver grinned and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. ”That very unsafe fire escape. Now c’mere.” 

Felicity swallowed, trying not to give in. But Oliver, smiling and advancing towards her … a woman would need to be made out of steel to not feel affected by that. Because the only superpower Oliver Queen needed was his smile.

"We—we agreed that we’d spend tonight apart …" she said slowly, not moving as he came towards her and slid his arms around her waist. "It’s bad luck." 

"That only applies the day of the wedding. And we still have three hours and six minutes before it’s the day of the wedding. AKA, tomorrow." Oliver lowered his head and brushed his lips over her neck. "There’s plenty of time for this before it’s tomorrow." 

The breathy little moan she lets out is not good. It’s like a green light or waving a red flag in front of a bull. And she shouldn’t give in so easily …

"Oliver, it’s supposed to make tomorrow night more special."

"I know that, Felicity," he says, lifting his head and gazing at her. "But, you know, tonight’s special, too."

"Oh, really? And why’s that?" she asks, raising an eyebrow. Because if he says anything about getting his last sex as a bachelor, he’s gonna be out on that fire escape again. Maybe without her opening the window first—well, no, she would, but she could threaten it.

He nods. ”It’s my last chance to make love with Felicity Smoak. After tonight, I’ll only be making love with Felicity Queen.” 

Oh, God damn it. That’s all she can think as she basically starts tearing her fiancee’s clothes off. 

_"Oliver. You were suppose to leave at midnight. It's now..." She checks her nighttable, "six am. Now Go!"_

He pouted slightly. ”But I don’t wanna.” 

"Oh my God, you are like a puppy. I’m ready to put an ad in the paper: The Arrow is a big puppy dog." Felicity rolled out of bed and put her hands on her hips. "We are getting married in six hours. And I need at least four of them to get ready, and then there’s getting to the Starling Grand and being in place before the ceremony starts."

Oliver gazes up at her from her bed, and it’s so hard to not give in one more time. Because after all, they’re already flirting with bad luck—why not just run up to it and stick her tongue down its throat? Or Oliver’s throat, as the case may be.

She’s taken one step towards the bed, and Oliver’s beaming at her, when there’s a banging on her front door, and then the sound of a key in the lock. 

They look at each other, and then Thea’s voice drifts into the room. ”Felicity! I’ve come to get my brother out of your bedroom and back to Digg’s so he can get ready for your wedding! So tell him to put some clothes on, or else I’m going to find out the worst-kept secret in Starling.”

Felicity frowns and pulls on her robe before sticking her head out the door. ”What are you talking about, Thea?”

Thea, accompanied by a sheepish-looking Roy, grins at her. ”If he’s packing as much south of the border as the rumors say.” 

” ** _THEA_**!” Oliver bellows, and Felicity knows her face is bright red, and Roy looks mortified.

But Thea just cackles. ”That should take care of any desire for a pre-wedding quickie. Now get moving, Oliver—Felicity and I have a lot of work ahead of ourselves.”

Oliver comes out of her bedroom, dressed and grumpy. ”No, you don’t. Felicity looks beautiful already.” 

"Nice try, but get out," Thea says, kissing Oliver’s cheek. "Scoot." Then she takes Felicity’s arm and whisks her into her bathroom. 

_"Seriously?" Digg asks. "Did you guys plan NOT to see each other before the wedding?"_

"It was Felicity’s idea," Oliver said, adjusting his cuff links. "Something about making the wedding night extra-special, by not seeing each other the night before."

Digg snorted. ”But you couldn’t stand to be away from her and snuck into her apartment. I knew you were brave, but I didn’t know you were that foolhardy, Oliver.” 

"Hey, she was fine once I explained why I was there," Oliver said, grinning a little. Remembering how Felicity’s face had softened when he told her it was his last chance to sleep with Felicity Smoak. 

It was the truth—it wasn’t some line, the kind of thing that Ollie would have pulled. He wanted to remember the last time they made love before they became man and wife. It had been too much of a struggle to just move on from that chapter in their lives without taking a moment to remember it all. All the mistakes and issues that had kept them separated, until finally they realized that the only choice was each other. 

"Earth to Oliver—come in, space cadet Queen." Digg’s voice is teasing, but there’s also happiness and empathy there, too. Digg knows what it’s like to love a woman beyond belief. "Your bride will be coming any minute now." 

Oliver nodded and took a deep breath. The night of that first date, he had felt giddy—but also nearly paralyzed with nerves. Today, there’s no nerves. He knows this is right. That this is what’s meant to be. So all that’s left is the joy. 

The strains of the wedding march begin, and Oliver craned his neck, even though he knew that Lyla and Thea would be preceding Felicity down the aisle. But he just wants to see his Felicity, coming towards him in a white dress and a veil. He wants to see her the same moment she sees him, when they begin the ceremony that will make each of them the other’s. 

And when he does see her, Oliver knew he started grinning at her, and he can even feel tears prick his eyes, but he doesn’t care. 

All that matters is Felicity.


	62. its too late.

_its too late._

"No, it’s not," Oliver insisted, pulling Felicity along by the hand. "We’re gonna make it!" Turning his head back to check on her, he doesn’t notice the luggage cart that’s in front of them. 

He can hear a soft yelp from Felicity, and then they’re both crashing backwards, Oliver doing everything he can to not fall on top of Felicity. Normally he’d be able to pull her around so he could cushion her body with his, but not this time. 

"Oooooomph!" Felicity says, wincing. "Oliver, we’re too late." 

"No, we’re _not_ ,” he said, going to push himself up only to grimace as his wrist immediately tells him what a bad idea that is. ”I can’t miss my sister’s wedding!”

"Oliver, I’m sorry, but—" She pointed at the display signs, showing that their flight has pushed back from the gate.

Sighing, Oliver lets his head drop. He can’t believe he’s going to miss Thea’s wedding. All because of a stupid traffic jam and a shortage of TSA officials that caused a backup in the security screening lines. 

There’s a soft hand rubbing his shoulders. And then a gentle voice in his ear. ”It’s okay. We can fix this.” 

"How?" he asked, not looking at Felicity. "We missed the only flight from here to Hawaii that would get us there in time." 

"We missed the only commercial flight," Felicity says.

He blinks and turns to look at her. ”What?”

She’s already got her tablet out, her fingers moving faster than light, and then she smiles. ”I just booked us a private jet. It’ll be ready to take off in forty-five minutes, which will give us just enough time to reach the resort in time for the ceremony. We’ll just have to skip showering and—oooomph!”

This time, she makes that noise because he’s kissing her.


	63. Oliver pulled her close

_Oliver pulled her close, before she could even register he was there. His scent consuming her being her only clue._

Sighing softly, Felicity leaned back against him. ”Mmmmmm. Hi.”

"Hey," he said softly, his hands resting on her stomach. He brushed a kiss over her neck. "So how’s the patient?"

"Getting coddled within an inch of his life, from what I can tell," Felicity said in amusement. 

From the doorway of the hospital room, they can see Thea fussing over Roy, giving him a tongue-lashing as she adjusts his pillows and fidgets with his blankets and checks the dressings on his chest. Nevermind that her arm’s in a sling and there’s a rather large bandage on her head—she’s totally focused on her boyfriend and vigilante partner. 

"It’s nice to see," she said softly. "Thea and Roy, happy together." 

Oliver let out a small sigh, one that’s full of big-brother worry and mentor concern. But deep down, he’s happy about this, Felicity knew. 

Turning around, Felicity looked up at Oliver. ”Hey,” she said, reaching up to take his face in her hands. ”You want to know something I’ve discovered?”

"What?" he asked softly, his hands on her hips and pulling her close to him.

She smiled. ”When you’re happy and in love, you want everyone else to be the same. And since I am _so_ happy and _so_ in love …”

The sight of the smile that slowly appeared on Oliver’s face makes that happiness inside her feel even bigger and brighter than before. And then he’s kissing her and everything is perfect. For Thea and Roy, for Digg and Lyla, and especially for Felicity and Oliver.


	64. Wow, pink is definitely your colour. Maybe we should call you Pink Panther instead of Arrow

_"Wow, pink is definitely your colour. Maybe we should call you Pink Panther instead of Arrow"_

Roy snorts and Oliver shoots him a glare. ”Not one word.” 

"I dunno, Oliver, I agree with Felicity," Digg says, his arms folded over his chest and a big smile on his face. He started whistling the Pink Panther theme, which makes Felicity giggle.

"It’s for charity. Thea had someone else lined up, but he called out sick," Oliver says, rolling his shoulders and bracing himself for the rest of the costume. "I don’t want to disappoint the kids." 

"Of course you don’t," Felicity says, smiling brightly at him. The smile that made him realize how lucky he was. 

He leans down. ”A kiss for luck?” 

Her cheeks go pink, but she goes up on her toes and kisses him softly. ”Good luck. Although I don’t know what luck has to do with it.”

"I’m going toe-to-toe with a vicious mob, after one thing," Oliver says with a grin. 

"You’re being the Easter Bunny at the Glades Easter Egg roll," Felicity says as she lifts the head of the pink bunny costume up. 

"Exactly. A bunch of kids after candy?" He mock-shudders, then grins as Felicity rolls her eyes and plops the headpiece onto him.


	65. There’s no instruction manual for this.

“There’s no instruction manual for this.”

That’s what surprises him most about being in love. He thought that once he and Felicity were together, they’d know how to do this. How to be in love, how to share a life with someone. But there isn’t.

They have fights over silly things, like Oliver buying the wrong kind of milk and Felicity leaving her shoes by the front door of the apartment. But that just means they have a reason to make up. They get out of sync sometimes, one of them desperate for the connection of sex and the other one too tired or not in the mood. So they learn what works instead of sex in those times: holding each other or a long bath.

There’s no instruction manual for love. Because everyone’s love is unique, not one-size-fits-all. And Oliver discovers he wouldn’t have it any other way.


	66. I’m done with this.

_“I’m done with this.”_

Oliver blinked. ”Excuse me?” 

"This!" Felicity said, gesturing to the computers. "I’m done with this! My eyes feel like I have the Sahara Desert in them, I can’t remember the last time I saw sunlight, and all I want is to eat a meal that’s not ‘fast casual’ at best and sleep in my own bed instead of yours." 

Her face goes red as her words sink in. ”I mean, yes, it’s your bed, but it’s not like you’re sleeping there with me, because you’re a gentleman and a hero and you don’t believe in sleeping in the same tiny little bed with a woman that you have messy, complicated feelings for, even though I’ve told you and told you that we’re both adults and—” 

It’s too much. After all, they’ve spent the last week in the Foundry, coping with the League of Assassins and splitting the team up into remote units. Roy and Thea are at Roy’s place, Digg and Lyla are at their apartment, and Ray and Laurel are at Palmer Technologies. Which left them sharing the Foundry, spending all their time together … slowly unpacking months of hurts and silences through conversations both short and long. 

He’s never felt closer to Felicity. Not even when he saw her in the restaurant the night of their date did he feel like this. And the idea that she wants out of here … 

Swallowing, he picks up his phone. ”I’ll ask Laurel to come stay here, and you can stay with Ray.” 

Felicity groans. ”Oliver Jonas Queen, you are so _dense_.”

"What?" he asks, staring at her. 

"I love you, you idiot, and if you don’t kiss me, I’m going to figure out if your bow is as easy to use as you make it look!"

Oliver blinks once, twice. And then he’s crossing the Foundry and wrapping his arms around Felicity so he can kiss her like he’s been dreaming of since their last kiss.


	67. Is that... Felicity... *what* are you wearing?

_"Is that... Felicity... *what* are you wearing?"_

"To quote the great humanitarian of our time, Cher Horowitz, it’s a dress, Oliver." 

"Did you just quote _Clueless_ to me?” Oliver asks, still staring at her. 

Felicity can’t help grinning. ”And how do you know that line is from _Clueless_ , Mr. Queen?”

"Thea. And you still haven’t answered my question: what are you wearing?"

Doing a little spin, Felicity can’t help smiling as the skirt of her dress bells out, making her feel like a little girl. The dress is long and downright slinky, in a turquoise-blue silk that makes her feel like something exotic and beautiful. 

"You can’t wear that." 

That stops her spin. And Oliver’s firm words are like a bucket of cold water over her. She frowns. ”Why not?” 

"It’s—it’s—" He splutters, looking uncomfortable. 

"If you’re about to say it’s inappropriate, you are in big trouble," Felicity says, putting her hands on her hips. 

Oliver slowly shakes his head, his eyes running over her. ”No. It’s too damn beautiful.” 

There’s a reverence to his voice that makes her feel tingly all over. ”Yeah?” she asks, moving close to him, seeing his fingers start rubbing against his thumb. 

"Yeah," he says, nodding slowly. His hand skims along her side, brushing against her breast, and Felicity swallows. 

"Oliver, we can’t be late—"

"If we can’t be late, maybe we shouldn’t go at all," he says, gazing into her eyes. Both hands now stroking her sides, pulling her close enough that she can feel the heat of his body through his tux and the silk of her dress. 

She licks her lips, and his eyes immediately lock on her mouth. ”I wouldn’t want to waste my dress.”

"Oh, it’s not wasted, Felicity," Oliver says as he lowers his head and kisses her slowly.


	68. I told you: no pets in the Foundry!

_I told you: no pets in the Foundry!_

"Oh, but Oliver, it’s not a pet! It’s just a kitten. I’m going to take her to the shelter in the morning, but I couldn’t leave her out in the alley all night." 

Oliver bit his lip. Felicity’s got a little grey kitten in her lap. It’s curled up and purring so loudly that Oliver can hear it from here.

If he was in Felicity’s lap, he’d be purring, too. But they can’t have a cat in here. It’s a vigilante base, not a home. It was bad enough when Felicity insisted on buying him a bed, or giving him their fern, or when she had John and Roy help her drag in a beat-up couch. ”For those nights when someone’s keeping me company while I work and you’re on patrol,” she had explained to Oliver.

He doesn’t want her turning this place into a home. He wants to make a home with her, in a house or an apartment. Like normal people do. 

But … they’re not normal. He’s a former billionaire and current vigilante. She’s a vice president and a hacker. Their romance has had more ups and downs than a roller coaster. And now that they’re together, she sends him off to work with a kiss, but he’s wearing green leather and she’s got a Bluetooth headset in her ear for communicating with him as she talks him through warehouses and tunnels.

Slowly, he walks over and leans down to stroke the kitten. ”She’s lucky you’ve got the biggest heart in the world.” 

Felicity gives him a bright smile. ”Lucky would be a good name for her.”


	69. But...but...I thought you liked it!

_"But...but...I thought you liked it!"_

"I do," Felicity says, chewing on her lip.

"Then what’s the problem?" Oliver asks, stepping close to her and resting his hands on her hips. "Huh?" he says, brushing his nose against hers. 

"It’s awfully expensive," Felicity says quietly, looking up at him. "Like, a month’s rent expensive. Don’t you think you should put the money aside for something important?" 

Oliver gazes at her, feeling his heart swell with love. But he can’t help a soft laugh. ”Felicity … that necklace, I didn’t buy it.” 

Her eyebrows narrow in confusion. ”You didn’t? Then how …?”

"It’s from my family’s vault at Starling National Bank. The mansion and a lot of the Queen family holdings might have been sold, but our personal items weren’t swallowed up," he explains softly, playing with the end of her ponytail. "And that necklace is a Queen family heirloom." 

"Oh! Oh," she says, going from relief to worry, her hand fluttering up to touch the small diamond pendant, the stones sparkling even in the Foundry’s low light. "Are you sure, Oliver? I’d hate to have something happen to your family jewels—" 

She closes her eyes as Oliver can’t hold back his snicker. ”Felicity,” he says, “from our very first case, I trusted you with my family jewels. And nothing’s changed.” 

Her answering smile is shy but happy, and Oliver decides to hold back the fact that the necklace is traditionally the first gift a Queen man gives the woman he’s going to marry. It’s been the case for two generations, and Oliver’s going to be the third.


	70. Oliver! Ray! Both of you stop it

_Oliver! Ray! Both of you stop it_

Oliver looks over at Felicity, which gives Ray the opening to punch him in the stomach. 

"ENOUGH!" Felicity says, getting between them and pushing Ray away. "Stop it!"

She turns to Oliver and lightly touches just her fingertips to his abs. ”Are you okay?” 

He nods, feeling more breathless from Felicity touching him than from Ray’s punch. ”I—I’m fine.” 

"Good," she says, staring at him. Then she takes his face in her hands and kisses him soundly. 

Oliver doesn’t know what’s happening, knows that Ray’s just standing there, but honestly he could care less. Because Felicity is kissing _him_ , for the first time, and it’s everything he’s dreamed of.


	71. Not Italian. It didn't exactly go well the last time..

_Not Italian. It didn't exactly go well the last time.._

Oliver huffs out a quiet laugh. ”No, it didn’t. So … what do you like? I’m guessing Thai is a problem for you.” 

Her smile is small and quiet, but so full of warmth and happiness that he feels blinded. ”Yeah, the peanut allergy is a problem. But I really like Mexican and Indian and Chinese. And French. Burgers.” Her cheeks are turning a deeper shade of pink as she talks, and finally she laughs. ”Basically, I like food, Oliver. Which you already know.” 

"Yeah …" he says slowly, gazing at her. Remembering her words about how they had exhausted every conversation for a first date. "I guess it’s a good thing it’s not a first date, then."

"It’s not?" she asks, taking a step closer to him and making his whole body quietly thrill at her proximity. 

"No," he says, reaching out to lightly skim his thumb over her ear, brushing her industrial piercing. "I think, after everything we’ve gone through, we’re a bit past first dates and second dates and third dates." 

Felicity’s eyes are wide and so blue. Her lips part, a breath escaping them and washing over his own lips. ”If you’re asking if you’re going to get lucky tonight, since we’re past the third date, I think I shouldn’t answer that. I don’t want you to feel like this is coming too easily, Oliver.”

God, he loves her so much. ”Hmm,” he hums. ”I don’t think the word ‘easy’ describes us. But believe me, I’m putting plenty of effort into tonight.” 

"Me, too," she says, her hands coming up to touch the hand that’s still stroking her ear, her fingers slowly wrapping around his wrist. 

And Oliver knows he’s right. They’re past numbered dates and all those rules. Tonight is the start of them being together.


	72. C'mere. I want to show you something.

_"C'mere. I want to show you something."_

"Oliver, I can’t see anything with your hands are over my eyes," she points out, stepping carefully. 

He laughs softly, a sound that Felicity is quickly becoming addicted to. ”It’s a surprise. I won’t let you fall.”

And doesn’t that just sum them up? Isn’t that what they’ve learned about love?

"Easy, just—yeah, like that," he says, his voice warm and soft in her ear, sparking reactions that make her want to push his hands away, turn around, and kiss him to within an inch of his life. 

But then, he removes his hands from her eyes, and they’re … 

Well, it’s a cubicle. It takes her a moment to realize, though, what’s so significant about this cubicle. 

Whirling around, she stares at him. ”Oliver?” 

He smiles. ”This is where we met. Seemed like the right place to spend our first anniversary.” 

Oh, she’s melting. Melting into a little puddle, in a way she would have sneered at before she met Oliver, before she embraced these feelings inside her for this stubborn, complicated, amazing man.

The man who knows how to treat her as the woman he loves.


	73. Okay, this is the last time. I swear.

_"Okay, this is the last time. I swear."_

Felicity snickered. ”Sure, Oliver.” 

From the mats underneath the salmon ladder, he looked over to give her a mock glare. ”You were the one complaining I hadn’t been doing this enough lately.”

"I know, but I didn’t realize you’d try to make up for all the months I’ve gone without this, all in one go," she said, her eyes fixed on the ripple of his muscles as he started scaling the ladder. 

"It feels good," he said, lifting himself easily. God, he was such a work of art. And he never understood how she could see him like that. 

Oliver was practical. He needed the core strength, needed the muscles, to do what he did. The only pride he took was what his body could do. 

She understood. The scars, the tattoos, the burns … they were reminders of the tortures he had suffered. But when she looked at Oliver, she saw the perfection and the flaws. She always had, from the very first time, when she sat at the table of computers and could barely keep her mouth from dropping as she watched him. She certainly hadn’t been able to keep her eyes off him. 

Sometimes, she wished he could see himself through her eyes, for just a minute. Then maybe he would know why she loved seeing him on the salmon ladder, why she wasn’t ever able to look away. 

Because Oliver was beautiful. And now he was hers. And she wouldn’t ever let him forget that.


	74. Sometimes I can't believe how much I love you.

_"Sometimes I can't believe how much I love you."_

Felicity turned red. ”Oliver.” 

He can’t help smiling at her. ”What?” 

They’re lying in bed, late on a Sunday morning. It’s a month into their new relationship, a month that’s been filled with so much happiness and joy, Oliver isn’t sure how he hasn’t exploded from the feelings he has inside himself. With his head propped up on one hand, he had been gazing at her as she looked at her phone, checking some alert that had gone off. 

Now, though, she’s blushing and looking flustered. ”I … I haven’t brushed my teeth, and my hair’s a mess, and … and I should have shaved my legs yesterday, especially given what we did last night.” 

Oliver quirked an eyebrow. ”Did you hear me complaining about your legs?” He shifts, sliding his free hand under the sheet so he can stroke her upper thigh.

She shifted, giggling a little. ”Stop that. I’m being serious.” 

"So am I," he said, leaning in to kiss her softly. Closed-mouth, in deference to her frankly silly worries about her breath. Yeah, her breath’s a little not-minty, but … but this is the kind of stuff he’s wanted with her. Not the dream, not the fantasy. He wanted hairy legs and not-so-great sex and little spats over whose turn it was to set the coffee maker the night before. 

He wanted it all with Felicity. Grand romance and the most banal of everyday life. He was going slowly, not wanting to make Felicity’s fears flare up. 

But he knew what he wants. And if there was one thing Oliver Queen, the Arrow, can achieve, it’s whatever he put his mind to.


	75. Oliver loves Felicity's ever present ponytail.

_Oliver loves Felicity's ever present ponytail._

It’s just so … _Felicity_. How her ponytail swings when she walks, how she’ll toss her head to move it when it’s bothering her. It’s a part of her like her glasses, the costume she developed to play the part of IT Girl. 

He really does love her ponytail. But what he loves even more is when they’re at home, and she pulls the holder out and shakes her hair free. When it falls around her shoulders and she runs her fingers through her hair to smooth out the kink from the band. When she takes off a little of the armor she uses to get through the day.

When he gets to see the Felicity that few people see. So it’s always odd when she wears her hair loose, because he feels the strangest stab of jealousy that everyone sees a glimpse of his Felicity. 

Honestly, though, he gave up a long time ago trying to understand his reactions to Felicity. Oliver knows he loves her, knows he would do anything for her. That’s as much a part of him as her ponytail. 

And just like he knows how much he loves her ponytail, Felicity knows that about him.


	76. I am impressed, Mr. Queen.

_"I am impressed, Mr. Queen."_

Felicity wasn’t expecting something like this, her first birthday after they’ve gotten together. She had expected him to go over the top and big, because that’s Oliver when it comes to the people he loves: he’s got the grand gesture down pat. When she told him she didn’t care how they celebrated her birthday, he had looked so confused, so uncertain, that she had needed to spend a lot of time kissing him in order to reassure him that yes, that was really how she felt.

(Honestly, she didn’t mind the kissing in the slightest, but she didn’t want to totally let that on to Oliver just yet. A woman needed to keep some mystery.)

So she had expected some fancy party, or an elaborate dinner, and lots of presents. But instead … it had been simple things. A coffee from her favorite place and her favorite pastry, which did not come from the same place as her coffee. A small but completely beautiful floral arrangement delivered to her office just before lunch. And then, a night off from Arrowing for both of them, in favor of their favorite Chinese dishes and a night on the couch. 

It was the perfect birthday. And it was perfect because it was Oliver making it happen. She told him that, as the end of the most recent episode of _Game of Thrones_ finished playing.

"I was expecting you to pull out all the stops today," she said sleepily, turning her face into his neck and inhaling that Oliver scent of pine trees and cologne. "But you kept everything small. Small and intimate and perfect."

"It was what you wanted," he said, running his fingers along her spine. "Although … I did kinda keep the big, splashy element for now." 

Felicity smiled to herself and pushed herself up. “I knew it. I knew you’d want to do something that was a big deal today.” 

His smile was warm and lopsided and so wonderfully happy that Felicity couldn’t help smiling back at him. 

"Guilty," he said, reaching into the pocket of his jacket and drawing out a long, narrow box. He handed it to her, his smile going smaller and a little bit shy. "Happy birthday, Felicity." 

She took the box and kissed his cheek before she really looked at it. And for some reason, she felt a strange flutter when she looked at it. But rather than analyze that feeling, she ripped off the paper and lifted the hinged lid, feeling her breath catch in her throat. 

It was a delicate-looking silver necklace, the chain so fine that it was nearly invisible. But it was the pendant that really caught her attention: a silver disc, about the size of a quarter, with … 

"Is this an LED?" she asked, her eyes leaping to Oliver’s. 

He grinned. “Yeah. The switch is on the back. You just press it when you need a little light.” He ran his hand over her hair slowly. “Because you helped me find my light, so whenever you’re feeling like you need some help, you’ve got mine.” 

Tears pricked her eyes. “Oliver …” she said, her voice choked, before she threw her arms around him as tightly as she could.

So in the end, Oliver still got his grand gesture. And Felicity found she didn’t mind them quite as much as she thought she would.


	77. Snow ball fight

_Snow ball fight_

In the midst of monitoring comms, Felicity of course heard the weather reports: the forecasters excitedly hyping a rare snowstorm approaching Starling City. But this wasn’t the first time the meteorologists had been wrong since she had moved to Starling, so she had taken it all with a grain of salt.

But then, when Oliver walked her out to her car, she drew up short when she saw the alley outside Verdant carpeted in white. 

"It snowed?!?" she asked, whirling to face him. "Why didn’t you tell me?" 

"I thought you knew," he said, looking a bit surprised by her reaction. "It was all over the news …"

Without bothering to reply, Felicity crouched down and started gathering snow in her hands. ”Oh, I miss this. I hated snow the first winter I went to MIT, but then, I realized I loved it. How it changed everything—it made everything quiet and still, let you slow down and be different from normal.” 

Lifting her hands, molding the snow into a solid ball, Felicity felt herself caught up in her memories of the best four years of her life. The best years, until she had met Oliver and discovered just how much she could do beyond being a IT girl. 

"You look like you were happy then." 

Felicity lifted her eyes to Oliver, who had a small smile on his face, even though his eyes were sad. 

"I was," she said softly. "But I was just thinking about how those years weren’t as good as the last three."

He snorted softly. ”Seriously? With the constant danger from earthquake machines and crazy madmen and … and from partners who are assholes?” 

It’s on the tip of her tongue to argue with him, to make this serious. But it’s snowed in Starling City, and that feels like enough of a miracle that she doesn’t want to spoil it. 

"Oh, I don’t know," Felicity said lightly. "I bet the Arrow is really good at snowball fights. But I’m positive he’s not as good as me." 

Oliver’s eyebrows shoot up, and then he smirked. ”The Arrow will take that bet,” he said, moving back from her and then leaning down to craft a snowball. 

It was cute how he thought he was going to win, Felicity thought as she quickly made a pile of snowballs. But he didn’t realize he was going up against a member of MIT’s 2008 snowball fight championship team.


	78. FELICITY IN THE ARROW HOOD. AND MAYBE JUST THAT.

_FELICITY IN THE ARROW HOOD. AND MAYBE JUST THAT._

"Felicity?" Oliver called, hurrying down the stairs into the Foundry. "I thought we were taking the night off, and then I got your message—"

Anything that was in his head—the plans he had made for dinner, questions about how her day and if her meeting with Lucius Fox of Wayne Enterprises had been okay, and his curiosity about why she had wanted him to come here—faded away when he caught sight of her.

First he saw her bare feet, with her pink painted toenails. Then it was her shapely calves and smooth shins, her oh-so-slightly knobby knees, and then her frankly magnificent thighs. And then, covering her from hips to head, was … his leather jacket. The green hood was pulled over her head, hiding her blonde hair, hiding her beautiful face, while the jacket as a whole dwarfed her slim, curvy figure. 

And for the first time since he was a teenager and saw a naked girl in person, Oliver Queen was convinced he was going to come in his pants. 

"Felicity?" he bleated, staring at her. 

Her mouth, under the shadow of the hood, was painted bright pink. She smiled slowly. “You have failed this Felicity,” she said, lowering her voice. But she spoiled it with a tiny giggle, and then she threw back the hood and smirked at him. ”Hi, Oliver.” 

She was probably expecting him to ask what she was doing. Expecting some kind of banter. But he was long past banter. 

That was why he scooped her up, settled her on one of the tables right next to their fern, and proceeded to reward her for her very, very good idea.


	79. Even if you don't, couldn't you say you do?

_"Even if you don't, couldn't you say you do?"_

“No,” Oliver said, not caring how stubborn he sounded. Trying not to care at how Felicity’s lips turned down at his refusal.

“Oliver,” Felicity said, drawing out the syllables of his name. “C’mon. Please?”

Would it be so bad? And Felicity almost never asked him for anything … 

“It’s just one little midnight screening. We can hold hands and eat junk food and you can whisper snarky comments about how the fight scenes are ridiculous and impossible,” she said, clasping her hands together as she batted her eyelashes at him. 

“I haven’t seen any of the other movies—”

“Wrong, we watched all three of the Iron Man movies that one time!” 

Oliver smirked at her. “We made out during all three of the Iron Man movies that one time.” 

Felicity huffed, her hands going to her hips. “You really don’t want to go with me to the midnight screening of the new Avengers movie?”

Sighing, Oliver reached out for one of her hands. “It’s not that I don’t want to go, I just don’t want to ruin your fun.”

“It’ll be more fun with you there,” she said, gazing up at him. Like he wasn’t some grumpy, brooding person with a big gap in his pop culture knowledge. Like she really wanted him there. 

He pressed his lips together, considering the idea.

“I was thinking I’d dress up as the Black Widow.” She held his eyes, then lifted an eyebrow. “So I’d be wearing a black leather catsuit, basically.”

“I’m going with you,” Oliver said automatically, and then realized, as Felicity smiled triumphantly and smugly, that he had been played.


	80. Oliver, this is me noticing you staring.

_"Oliver, this is me noticing you staring."_

“Yeah?” Oliver said, smiling a little and not looking away from Felicity. His chin was resting in his hand, watching as she sipped her coffee. 

Felicity rolled her eyes, but he could see the color rise in her cheeks. “You are so flirty in Central City.” 

“It’s all the sunshine,” Oliver quipped, leaning forward to kiss her cheek. 

“And it has nothing to do with Barry?” Felicity asked, eyeing him over her mug of coffee. 

He opened his mouth to protest, only for Felicity to hold up her hand. “I saw how you were when Barry and I met. And whenever I came here to visit, whether he was in the coma or not, you always looked like a kicked puppy when I came back,” she said, an amused note in her voice.

“You’re enjoying this,” he said, watching the smile bloom on her face. 

“Maybe a little?” she admitted, reaching across the table to lace her fingers through his. “It was hard, you know. Watching you with Sara. Because … because she was so important to you, and amazing, and you two seemed like such a good match. There was no drama.” 

“You’re right,” Oliver said, rubbing his thumb against her hand. “There was no drama. But it was because we were too alike. We knew each other too well.” 

Felicity frowned, her forehead wrinkling in that adorable way that made Oliver want to kiss the wrinkles away. “I don’t get what you’re saying.” 

“I loved Sara,” he said, looking into Felicity’s eyes. “But deep down, I was already in love with you—I just didn’t realize it yet. But Sara did, I think. And besides, we didn’t bring out the best in each other. Not like me and you.” 

As he lifted their hands and brushed a kiss over Felicity’s knuckles, he saw her eyes go soft and her lips part in a sigh. “You—you should really stop doing things like that. You know the paparazzi love shots of us together.”

“Nope. Don’t care,” Oliver said, leaning on the table so he could kiss her. 

Because after all, they were in Central City on the first stop of their honeymoon. And Oliver wasn’t about to not kiss his wife if he wanted to kiss her.


	81. You never told me about those worse first dates

"You never told me about those worse first dates"

Felicity blushed, tugging the sheet up a little to cover herself. Oliver let her, although he wormed his hand through a gap so he could stroke her hip. Savoring the warmth of her body, delighting in being in her bed for the first time. 

"There’s not much to tell," she said before leaning in to kiss him slowly, her lips soft against his. She drew his lower lip in for a soft suck, and Oliver nearly gave in. But then he pulled back and smiled at her. 

"Nope, that’s not gonna work." 

The pout on her face was so adorable that he actually leaned in to kiss her, only to draw back. “Oliver!” 

"Tell me," he said softly, making it clear it was a request and not a command. He gently stroked the flare of her hip, loving how the dip in her waist seemed made for his hand, even though his hands were so large and her figure was so petite. 

She let out a soft sigh, her eyes unfocusing for a moment into deep blue pools, and then she came back to him, and he could tell she was ready. “Well … it wasn’t even the first first date that I ended up needing medical attention. Because I went out with this guy at MIT, and he took me out for Thai food.”

Oliver immediately got it. “Your peanut allergy.” 

Nodding, Felicity shrugged one shoulder. “They told me the dish didn’t have any peanuts, but they neglected to say that the chicken had been fried in peanut oil. Ta-da, allergic reaction while the guy freaked out and nearly passed out.” 

"What?" Oliver asked, feeling shocked. Shocked that anyone would be able to think about themselves when they had Felicity in pain and in trouble. 

"I pulled out my epi pen and gave myself an injection, then called an ambulance for myself and for him," Felicity said, her hand slowly tracing shapes over his chest. "Needless to say, neither of us were interested in a second date after that." 

"Good," Oliver said, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. "He definitely wasn’t good enough for you." 

Felicity quirked an eyebrow, then laughed. “Oliver, he was nineteen. What would nineteen-year-old you done in that situation?”

He opened his mouth to protest, only for Felicity’s knowing look to stop him. He pressed his lips together for a moment, acting grumpy even though he felt a bone-deep contentment at how well she knew him. “At least I wouldn’t have passed out,” he said, pulling her a bit closer to him. 

She giggled softly and cuddled in against him. “That was probably the worst one, though.” 

Brushing his lips over her forehead, he spoke softly. “I’m sorry our first date ended like it did.” 

"Hey," she said, looking up at him and stroking his arms slowly. "It was a great first date." 

"Until the explosion," he said dryly. 

"It was a great first date," she repeated, holding his eyes with hers. "You know why?" 

Oliver frowned a little, not understanding where she was going with this. “Why?”

Felicity gazed at him for a long moment, sweeping her eyes over his face. Like she was looking into his soul. “Because it was my last first date.” 

_Oh_. He felt his heart leap into his throat and a huge smile appear on his face, and Felicity was smiling back at him, and now they were kissing because she was right and they were together and … 

It was his last first date, too.


	82. Is that one line or two?

_"Is that one line or two?"_

Oliver narrowed his eyes, focusing on the tiny little window. ”Um …” 

With a groan, Felicity snatched the stick from him and looked at it, both with and without her glasses. ”Why did you buy this one?”

"It—it was on sale …" he said slowly, feeling a bit taken back by the tone in her voice. 

"You’re a billionaire, why did you buy the one on sale?!?" she asked, plunking the stick down on the counter and starting to pace—well, as much as she could in her little bathroom. "It’s probably on sale because it’s the crappy test and everyone knows it and nobody buys it, so they pile up in the stockroom and they put them on sale to try and move them out, but everyone knows they’re crappy! Everyone but us!"

"Felicity—Felicity," he said, reaching out and gently holding her shoulders. "I bought another test. You can take that one, and we’ll see if you’re pregnant." 

She looked up at him, chewing on her lower lip. And then her eyes filled with tears, making Oliver gulp. But it was her words that made him feel really scared.

"I—I just—I never thought I’d do this. I didn’t think I’d ever find someone I’d want to have a baby with, and then I met you and babies seemed even more unthinkable, until we got together, and now—now I really, really want this. Not just because otherwise all that throwing up was because of some bad shrimp, but because … I want to have a baby with you, Oliver." 

His heart tightened in his chest and he felt his own eyes burn. ”I want that, too, Felicity. I have for years.” 

She sniffed a little. ”Digg told me once that the moment he really knew we’d end up together was when you saw me with Lyla, right after Sara was born. Because you had the face of a man who knew who the mother of his children was.” 

"He’s right," Oliver said, brushing a soft kiss over her lips. "But I wanted to have children with you even before that." 

"Really?" she asked, sounding so shy and surprised that Oliver let go of her shoulders to wrap her up in his arms. 

"Really," he said. "And if you’re pregnant now, that’s great. But if it’s not now … it’ll be someday." 

Felicity buried her face in his neck, her glasses pressing into him a little. But he didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything except holding Felicity. Holding her and hoping that someday was today.


	83. I swear, if you ask me that one more time...

_"I swear, if you ask me that one more time..."_

"You’ll what?" Oliver said, getting in Felicity’s face. Grinning widely at her, unable to hold back how happy she makes him. He never thought he’d smile as much as he does now. "You’ll say yes?" 

She rolled her eyes behind her glasses. “No way. I’m not giving in on this. I’m like the Rock of Gibraltar on this one, Oliver.” She folded her arms over her chest and lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. She was the picture of determination.

An adorable picture, but nevertheless, she wasn’t going to budge. So he had to redouble his efforts. 

He rested his hands on her hips, drawing her in towards him. “Felicity,” he said softly, rolling each syllable of her name in his mouth like they tasted sweeter than honey. “Please, say yes.” 

With how close he was, he could feel how she drew in a deep breath. “I don’t know why this matters so much to you …” she said, looking up at him. 

"Because I love you," he said, gazing into her eyes. "Because it would make me really happy. And because I think it would make you happy, too. If I’m wrong, tell me that. Say you don’t want this, and I’ll stop asking. But if you’re only saying no because you’re worried about what people might think, or what Digg or Roy or Laurel would say … that doesn’t matter to me. Only you matter, Felicity." 

Her arms loosen, and then she’s lifting them up to wrap her hands around the back of his neck. “You don’t play fair, Oliver.” 

He gave her a small smile, knowing that he had won but not wanting to rub it in.

Felicity let out a soft sigh. “Then … yes. Yes, I won’t hyphenate my name after we get married.” 

Smiling widely, he leaned in and kissed her slowly. He’s spent months thinking about how good Felicity Queen sounded. It was a thought that carried him through so many dark days. So when she said she wanted to go by Smoak-Queen professionally … well. It had taken a lot of convincing that he was fine if she stayed Felicity Smoak professionally—but when it came to personal things, he wanted her to be Felicity Queen and nothing else. 

And now, in twelve days, she would be.


	84. There's no way that you're happy.

_"There's no way that you're happy."_

Felicity blinked and turned to Oliver. “Why wouldn’t I be happy?” 

There were a lot of different Olivers rolled up inside his body. Like Whitman said, he was vast—he contained multitudes. Felicity loved all of them … but she did get a kick out of Confused!Oliver. Because he was just so adorable, with his scrunched-together eyebrows and slightly-pursed lips that made him very kissable. 

"We got soaking wet in a massive rainstorm, which also caused the giant traffic jam we’re now stuck in. And we’ve already missed our flight, so it looks like we won’t be ringing in the New Year in Tuscany," Oliver said, rapidly shifting from Confused!Oliver to Grumpy!Oliver, with just the faintest hint of "I’m rich and I should always get what I want"!Oliver. 

"All true," Felicity said in agreement.

He frowned a little, and then suddenly, he relaxed. He turned his head to look at her, taking advantage of the stopped cars surrounding them, and smiled. The smile that she always secretly thought of as hers. “But we’re together, so you can’t help being happy?” 

"God, Queen, you’re such a sap," she said, beaming back at him. "I suppose that’s true, although I was actually thinking that this would give me more time to visit the duty-free stores before we got on the plane—" 

As she hoped, Oliver leaned over and kissed her slowly, his hand sliding into her still-damp hair, his lips ever-so-slightly clammy from the rain that had dried on his skin. She sighed softly and draped her arm around his neck, savoring the life they had together. Enjoying all the different Olivers she could experience.

Because the best Oliver of all was Happy!Oliver.


	85. So I've got to ask...when did you learn to cook like *that*?

_"So I've got to ask...when did you learn to cook like *that*?"_

"Hong Kong," Oliver says lightly, picking up both their plates and carrying them to the sink.

"You cooked, the least I can do is clean," Felicity says, following him and gently hip-checking him away from the sink. She starts the water to fill the sink and Oliver watches her. Watches how she notices him not moving away, watches how she determinedly keeps her eyes on the dishes filling the sink, watches as she pushes up her glasses and rolls her shoulders and doesn’t ask him to explain further.

It’s yet one of a thousand things he loves about her: how she always accepts the pieces of his past so graciously, like he’s giving her a gift and not a burden. And she never asks for more than he’s willing to give, because she always seems to know if he wants to talk or not. 

"You remember Maseo? I stayed with him. And his wife and son," Oliver says, keeping his eyes fixed on Felicity’s profile. "Tatsu taught me how to cook. I think she wanted me to figure out on my own, but she was afraid I’d burn the whole building down. Judging from how well I taught myself to do my laundry." 

The joke at his own expense breaks through whatever is making Felicity avoid his gaze. She looks at him and smiles softly. “I’d have liked to see that. Billionaire Playboy vs. Washing Machine. Two opponents enter the ring, only one leaves.” 

"And it was the washing machine," Oliver says, smiling at her. Watching her eyes light up as she laughs softly. 

And the connection between them, the one that has waned so much this year, is suddenly waxing full, like the moon. And he feels like the tide, drawing closer and closer to her. 

She feels it, too. She gazes up at him, ignoring the running water, still holding the half-rinsed plate in her hand. 

It’s not their first kiss. But as he leans in towards her, watching her the whole time, he thinks it might be their first kiss when they’re both on the same page. When it’s not about goodbye or an ending, but about a beginning. 

Because standing in Felicity’s kitchen, after a meal that he cooked for them and in the middle of washing the dishes … that’s how he wants to start his life with her.


	86. This would be easier if you weren't wearing pants.

_"This would be easier if you weren't wearing pants."_

Felicity blinked, staring at Oliver. “What?” 

He paused, and she can almost see him mentally rewinding the conversation. And then … he went red. 

Oliver Queen most definitely blushed. Because he had just said something that was worthy of her, Felicity Smoak, Queen of the Innuendo. 

“I—I just meant, if you were wearing a skirt or a dress, I could do this better …” he said weakly, his hands still holding the cotton pad and bottle of iodine he had been using to clean her scraped knees. Her heel had broken on her way into the Foundry, sending her to the ground hard. Oliver had seen it and had immediately scooped her up—almost completely literally, her feet had definitely left the ground—and brought her down here. 

“I know what you mean—” Felicity said, before she stopped to laugh. She clapped a hand over her mouth after the first giggle escaped her, because she knew Oliver wouldn’t take this well, but—but he was so _adorable_. All worried about her skinned knees, acting like she hadn’t patched up bullet holes and arrow wounds in him under his many protests that they ‘weren’t that bad.’ But that some minor skin abrasions on her merited a full-on medical assault. 

He shifted his feet, looking sheepish and a bit embarrassed, then he shrugged and set down the pad and the iodine, before reaching for her waist. 

Her laughter died immediately when she felt his fingers popping the clasp of her dress trousers. “Oliver?” 

And she had not meant her voice to come out so breathy and sex-kitteny. But … but he was _unbuttoning and unzipping her pants_ , and yes, they were dating now, but this—this had definitely not happened yet. Not that they hadn’t had sex, but—but this felt different! More intimate than all the ways he had slid inside her, staring into her eyes and making her feel like the center of his world.

Okay, maybe not. But … what was the problem?

“Stand up, Felicity,” he said softly, his voice very amused. Like he knew exactly where her thoughts had gone, and—that just wasn’t fair. Half the time she didn’t understand her mind, yet he always seemed to know what she was thinking. 

So she stood up, letting her pants fall to the ground. But neither of them noticed, because they were too busy kissing now.

Eventually, Oliver finished cleaning and bandaging her knees. Although the kisses he peppered over her kneecaps did more than the iodine and bandaids to heal her, Felicity thought.


	87. Tell me something.... Anything

_"Tell me something.... Anything"_

Felicity looked at Oliver and smiled. “Anything?” 

He nodded slowly, his head propped up on one hand. They’re sitting at the table in her apartment, their empty plates in front of them and candlelight throwing soft light and shadows over Oliver’s beautiful face. He looked so … _content_. Relaxed and peaceful and happy, in a way she thought she would never ever see. And the fact that he seems to look like that when he’s with her, when they’re having these quiet times … it does funny things to her. 

It’s on the tip of her tongue to be a little bit flippant. To talk about her hatred of peas or how much she liked the dress she had just bought. But instead … she tells him something real.

“I knew I loved you when I told you I wasn’t leaving, during the Undertaking.” 

His eyes go wide. “Then? That long ago?”

She looked down and fidgeted with her glasses. “Just because I knew doesn’t mean I let myself think about it.” 

“I had no idea,” he admitted, reaching out to take her hand. “I mean … I knew you found me attractive. Because of the salmon ladder,” he said, shooting her a small smile and waiting for her to smile back before he continued. “And I knew our friendship was important to you. But when you didn’t seem jealous of Sara … I thought maybe you were satisfied with what we had.” 

Felicity shrugged. “What would me being jealous of Sara achieved? You needed her, and … I liked her. A lot. And she was nice to me, you know? Because she picked up on enough to have an idea how I felt, and she didn’t rub it in or try to exclude me.” She looked down at the table. “That made it even worse when I felt like I was failing.” 

“Hey,” Oliver said immediately, squeezing her hand. “That’s why we’re partners. When I don’t have the answers, you help me find them.” He gave her a soft, lopsided smile. “I know it’s pretty rare for you to not know something, but when you don’t, you’ve got me.” 

Gazing at him, Felicity felt his words resonate in her core, deep down inside her. They helped eliminate the last of that insecurity and self-doubt, the ‘how could Oliver Queen love _me_?’ thoughts.

Without letting go of his hand, Felicity stood up and walked around the table towards him. He watched her, his eyes softening and darkening so that desire mixed with tenderness. It was a look she really liked on him. 

She straddled his lap, resting her hands on his shoulders and hooking her heels onto the rungs of the chair. Grounding her, so that she could let herself fall completely into Oliver as she leaned in to kiss him.


	88. Oliver showing Felicity how much he appreciates her body when she is feeling self conscious

_Oliver showing Felicity how much he appreciates her body when she is feeling self conscious_

“Oliver, no,” she said, shoving his hand away from her stomach. Her tone was just shy of snapping at him, and it made him take a step back. 

“Felicity?” he asked, blinking at her in confusion. 

He just … he doesn’t understand. And she doesn’t know how to explain it to him. It made her wish Thea or Lyla or even Laurel was around, although both Thea and Laurel are rail-thin and their curves are muscles, not … flab. 

But Oliver looked so surprised and suddenly unsure that she started to feel guilty. The reason he doesn’t understand is because she hasn’t explained it to him. And maybe … maybe she should. 

“I … I’m feeling a little fat today,” she admitted, feeling her cheeks go red. “I mean, I don’t have arms like Laurel or can rock a crop top like Thea, and even Lyla looks amazing and she’s had a baby and everyone knows a woman’s body isn’t the same once she’s had a baby.” She paused, biting her lip, and decided she might as well tell him everything. Avoiding his eyes, she spoke softly. “And since my boyfriend looks like a Greek god or like that Da Vinci drawing, you know the one with the arms and legs outstretched—” 

“Hey, hey,” he said, cupping her face in his hands. “Felicity.” 

“I know I’m being silly,” she said, keeping her head down. 

His thumbs stroked against her cheeks. “It’s not silly if it’s how you feel.” 

That made her look up at him, her eyes wide. “Really?”

Oliver gave her a small smile and a shrug. “I spent years believing the voices in my head, despite what everyone else told me. So I know what it’s like, how hard it is to ignore the voices.” 

Having him validate her feelings made her heart clench in her chest. Because she loved him _so_ much and she just … she doesn’t want to lose him. Ever. 

“How … how did you stop listening to them?” she asked softly. 

“It was about how people acted. Like kissing me on the cheek,” he said, gazing into her eyes. 

She feels a tiny smile on her lips at him bringing up that moment. When even though there was Ray and Ra’s al Ghul and Malcolm Merlyn standing between them, they couldn’t deny their connection. 

“Was that enough?” she asked, searching his face. 

“Then? Yeah. Now? No,” he said, a smirk appearing on his face. “How about I return the favor by showing you how I feel about your body?” 

That made her straighten up. Because she knew what he was going to do. And he knew that she knew. But she also knew that if she told him no, he’d ask her what he could do. And he would do it, because it was her asking him. 

But right now … she liked the idea of her boyfriend making her feel beautiful. So Felicity nodded slowly, and then, before she lost her nerve, stretched up on her tiptoes to kiss him.

After a few moments of kissing, as Felicity felt her skin grow warm and her mind going blissfully blank, Oliver stopped. “C’mere,” he said, pulling her over towards their bed. “Help me undress you.” 

It’s such an odd request—neither him stripping her clothes off or him asking her to undress—but she thought she knew what he was doing. He was letting her keep some control. Making this not about simply showing her what she looked like through his eyes … but making her know how she could do this on her own in the future. 

Felicity felt her heart skip a beat and oh, she loved him _so_ much.

And as Oliver helped her take off her clothes, smiling at her as she did a little hip sway and kissing her neck as he undid her bra, Felicity started to feel it. 

She felt beautiful. 

But when he laid her out on their bed and proceeded to kiss her all over, she felt beautiful and loved. And that was even better than just feeling beautiful. 

Lots of women were beautiful or hot or sexy. But she, Felicity Smoak? She had Oliver Queen. And that was worth all the beauty and sex appeal in the world.


	89. Are you using my toothbrush?

_"Are you using my toothbrush? "_

Oliver stopped, Felicity’s toothbrush still in his mouth. Which was probably not a good idea, since from the sound of her voice she was _not_ happy with him.

Turning to face her, Oliver pulled the toothbrush out. “Um …” he said slowly. 

“You’re using my toothbrush?!?” she asked, her eyes wide.

“Well, yes,” he said, before quickly explaining himself. “I didn’t think it would be a big deal, considering where my tongue has been in your mouth–”

_Dude, seriously?_ came the voice in his head that sounded a lot like Tommy, as Felicity’s eyes narrowed. 

“I didn’t want to kiss you with morning breath!” he blurted out. Feeling nervous, feeling like he had no game at all. Because last night was the first night he had ever stayed at Felicity’s apartment, their first night together since Nanda Parbat, and he had been so relieved and so excited and so much in love with her that it hadn’t seemed like a big deal to use her toothbrush. 

Felicity blinked. And then, to his surprise, she started laughing. No–she was cackling, bending over at the waist and letting out loud whoops of laughter. 

He frowned, then quickly rinsed his mouth out. At the very least, he didn’t want to continue this–this whatever-it-was with a mouthful of foam. When Felicity was still laughing, he took a breath. “Felicity?”

“Oh–oh,” she wheezed, straightening up and grinning so widely at him. “I thought you’d be a hygiene freak and wouldn’t dream of using my toothbrush.”

Feeling incredibly relieved, he couldn’t help smiling back. “No. Not a hygiene freak.” 

“Good,” Felicity said, walking up to him and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Then you won’t mind if I kiss you before I brush my teeth.”

No, he didn’t mind at all.


	90. Oliver I'm so happy

_"Oliver I'm so happy"_

Her words made Oliver draw up short. Because … it was just an ordinary Tuesday night. They spent the day working on paperwork to manage the transition from Palmer Technologies to Queen, Incorporated. Dinner was burgers before he suited up and went out to protect Starling, Felicity’s voice in his ear. And now, they were sprawled out on the couch in her apartment (not that she would be living here for much longer, if Oliver got his way and convinced her to move into the loft with him), eating popcorn and watching some super-hero movie. 

“You are?” he asked, hearing the surprise in his voice.

Felicity turned her head and gazed at him, her eyes so soft and deep and blue that he felt like he would be happy to drown in them–in her.

“I am,” she said, lifting her hand to stroke his cheek. Her fingers were a bit greasy from the popcorn, and her nail polish was slightly chipped on her thumb, and she looked slightly tired but still beautiful. So beautiful.

“But … but we’re not even doing anything,” he said. 

A smile, _his_ smile, appeared on her face. “Yes, we are,” she whispered softly. “We’re being in love.”

Without any conscious thought, his hand raised to mirror her same gesture. He looked into her eyes, feeling like if he had a million years, she would still find ways to surprise him.

“Yeah, we are,” he said, his voice low and rough from the emotions coursing through him. “And that makes me happy, too.”

Her smile grew even brighter and she leaned in to kiss him softly. Which made him even happier.


	91. Is that--did you make a cake?

_"Is that--did you make a cake?"_

“Yep,” Felicity said, frowning a little as she tried to smooth the frosting out over the slightly uneven surface of the sheet cake. “For the Queen, Inc. bake sale.”

“Bake sale?” Oliver asked, blinking.

She glanced at him. “Remember? We’re working to rebuild staff morale, by holding a bake sale? All the proceeds going to the Glades Rebuilt Fund?”

“I remember the bake sale,” Oliver said, coming up to stand behind her, resting his hands lightly on her hips. “I didn’t realize we’d have to contribute.”

“Why not?” Felicity asked, looking over her shoulder at him. 

He gave her a small, lopsided, smile. One that she bet he had used a lot in his Ollie years. “Because our name is on the building.”

“Your name,” she countered. “Professionally, I’m still Felicity Smoak.” 

One of his hands slowly slid from her hip to rest against her stomach, his calloused fingers rubbing her silk blouse against her skin and damn it, he knew what that did to her … 

“Our name,” he said in a low voice, right in her ear. “Because there’s no Queen, Inc. without you, Felicity. Whether you’re called Smoak in the office or Queen outside of it.” 

Felicity swallowed and carefully set down the spatula she had been using to smooth frosting over the cake. Then she turned in her husband’s arms and kissed him with everything she had.


	92. Oliver, what are you doing?

_"Oliver, what are you doing?"_

He grinned at her, leaning in to kiss the tip of her nose. “We’re dancing.”

Her eyes, so wide and blue behind her glasses, stared up at him. “But you don’t dance.”

“I said that, I know,” he said, his hand stroking her back slowly as he moved them around the loft’s living room. “The thing is, I can dance.”

“You sure can,” she said, her forehead getting all wrinkled and her eyes narrowing as she tried to figure this out. As she tried to solve this new mystery about him, because she hated mysteries, Oliver knew.

She hated mysteries. He actually could dance. Every day since his return to her, Oliver felt like they had been unwrapping all the secrets they carried around inside themselves. Whether they were good or bad secrets, insignificant or major details, they were learning each other. 

Most normal couples did that well before they got married. But he and Felicity … they were far from normal. And he wouldn’t have them any other way. 

“I never liked dancing before. But I’ve wanted to dance with you for a long time,” he said softly into her ear, drawing her even closer against his chest, dropping the proper dance hold so they could sway as they held each other. “And it is our first dance as a married couple, Mrs. Queen.”

Felicity’s cheek went the prettiest shade of pink. “It’s our first dance ever, Mr. Queen,” she said, gazing up at him. Then one of her hands slipped up to stroke his cheek. The hand that bore his ring. “It was worth the wait.”

And really, didn’t that just sum them up? So Oliver smiled at her, and drew her head to rest on his shoulder, and they swayed together for two more songs.


	93. "Happy birthday Felicity! " "Well that box is too small to be a puppy. . ."

_"Happy birthday Felicity! " "Well that box is too small to be a puppy. . ."_

Oliver huffed out a laugh. “No, it’s not. But did you want a puppy?” 

“No, but I just like saying that when I get gifts,” Felicity said, giving him her big, happy, beaming smile. The one that always made his stomach flip.

He watched as her fingers, with purple-painted nails, tore off the wrapping paper from the long, deep, rectangular-shaped box. So she was a ripper. He liked that he finally had an answer to that question about her.

Felicity’s birthday was the first time, since they got together, that there was an opportunity to give her an actual gift. One that he picked out for her and got wrapped and wondered if she would like. And seeing how she had paused at the box, emblazoned with the name of Starling’s most exclusive boutique, made all of his doubts reappear.

_It’s too personal–it’s too much money–you should have just gotten her that tablet–she won’t like it–it won’t fit–it’s not enough._

Slowly, Felicity lifted the lid and pushed back the layers of tissue paper to reveal his gift: a dress. A dress that was form-fitting yet refined, according to the saleswoman. Then she had babbled on about the cut and the material, but all Oliver knew was that it seemed made for Felicity. The red fabric, the not-symmetrical neckline, the strap that wound over one shoulder and across the back, meeting the rest of the dress at mid-back. 

All he could see was Felicity wearing that dress, smiling at him, dancing with him in his arms (which was a sign of how crazy he was about her, that he would be willing to dance with her) and never ever letting him go. 

When Thea saw it, she had let out a soft whistle. “Well done, big brother.” But Thea and Felicity had such different styles–what if Felicity didn’t like it?

“Oliver …” Felicity said softly, her eyes flying to him. “This–it’s too much …”

“It’s not nearly enough,” he said, his hand reaching out to stroke her arm. “Happy birthday.” 

She bit her lip and then hesitantly brushed her fingers against the dress. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

“That’s why it’s yours,” he said, before he could stop himself, because those kinds of sappy sentiments kept escaping his mouth since they got together. 

“Oliver,” Felicity said, laughing a little and turning to wrap her arm around his waist. 

“What? It’s the truth,” he said, pulling her in against him and feeling his nerves all float away. 

Felicity went up on her tiptoes to kiss him. “Thank you. I love it. And I can’t wait to wear it, because you gave it to me.” 

“Good, because tonight, Thea and Roy are taking us out to dinner. And she might have picked Table Salt so you would wear your new dress,” Oliver said, brushing his lips against hers. 

“You crafty Queens,” she said against his lips, smiling at him. 

“Just when it comes to the people we love,” he said, already looking forward to tonight. 

Because Thea might have picked Table Salt because of Felicity’s birthday present–but Oliver had given her the idea because Table Salt was a good place to propose.


	94. Just Olicity being domestic as hell.

_Just Olicity being domestic as hell._

If twenty-two-year-old Ollie Queen could see what thirty-year-old Oliver Queen was like, he’d think he had wandered into the Twilight Zone. Because Ollie had been scared to death of commitment, domesticity, or anything serious.

But Oliver craved it. He wanted it all, and he wanted it with Felicity. And now that he had it, he couldn’t get enough. 

Whistling softly, he walked into the former Palmer Technologies building, heading for the executive elevator. The plastic bag in his hand swung in time with his steps and Oliver nodded and smiled at a few people he recognized in the hallways. A lot of the QC employees had stayed on in spite of all the changes, which was good to see. No matter what the name of the company was, there were still plenty of good people here. 

When he reached Gerry’s desk, Oliver opened the bag and pulled out a container of beef and broccoli. “Here you go, Gerry. How’s it going today?”

Felicity’s assistant looked incredibly relieved. “Thank you, Mr. Queen–you’re a lifesaver. Ms. Smoak’s had a hard day. You surprising her with lunch will definitely make things better.” 

“That’s what I’m here to do,” Oliver said. “And it’s Oliver and Felicity, you know that.” 

“Sorry, Mr. Queen, it’s just too weird for me to call you by your first names,” Gerry said, smiling as he popped off the lid for his lunch.

Chuckling, Oliver nodded and then headed into Felicity’s office. Her back was to him as she talked on the phone, and from her tense shoulders and raised voice, he could see how Gerry had been underselling how bad his fiancee’s day had been. 

“Those contracts might have been signed by my predecessor, but we are still in a position to honor them. You act like a transfer of ownership is something strange and new, like a unicorn!” She sounds completely exasperated. 

Oliver doesn’t say anything, letting her finish the conversation, which ends with Felicity sighing and wishing the person on the other end of the line all the best, before she hangs up. Her head falls forward and she whispered, just loud enough for Oliver to hear, “Frack.”

“Everything okay?” he asked softly, but she still startled before whirling around in her chair.

“Oliver?” she said, blinking at him, before she came to her feet and moved over to him, wrapping her arms around him tightly. 

“Hey,” he said, feeling his worry increase as he hugged her back with one arm. “It’s okay.”

She pressed her face against his neck, her glasses poking at him, but he didn’t say anything. Because Felicity wanting to burrow into him while she was at work meant she was on the edge of losing it. 

“Stupid Wayne Enterprises,” she muttered. “They think we can’t live up to our end of a bargain, because I’m running things now. We’re ‘too unstable’ and ‘a risky partner’ right now, apparently.” 

“Bruce Wayne is an asshole,” Oliver said, kissing the top of her head. “Even the old me thought that, and that should tell you something.” 

Felicity huffed out a strained laugh and tilted her head back, looking up at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Oliver said, kissing the crinkle between her eyes, just above the nose piece of her glasses. “You need a break. And I have Chinese, from the fancy place.” 

Her face lit up, showing yet again her appreciation for him–the appreciation that always made him feel so special, because Felicity had chosen _him_. “You got me the spare ribs?” she asked, referring to the super-spicy dish that she loved at the high-end Chinese restaurant he had introduced her to. 

“Yep,” he said, kissing her lightly. “Which means I hope you’re not very hungry. Because I need to kiss you for at least five minutes before I leave, and I won’t be able to kiss you after you eat them.” 

She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I think I can put off eating for five minutes. Since my mouth will be otherwise occupied.” She quirked an eyebrow at him, and Oliver grinned widely even as his whole body stood at attention from her very purposeful innuendo. 

“Damn straight it will, Ms. Smoak,” he said, leaning in and kissing her deeply.

Closing his eyes, Oliver gave himself over to kissing Felicity. It was always special, never taken for granted. But it was in moments like these that their connection seemed to matter the most. When the little things, the small gestures, meant so much more. 

Time seemed to slow as Felicity melded her body to his, her hands moving from his neck to his shoulders, then stroking over his chest. He dropped the bag of food and ran his hands slowly up and down her back, almost massaging the stress from her muscles and feeling her sigh into his mouth. And through it all, their mouths never left each other’s. 

And all he could think was how much he loved her. 

Slowly, their kisses drew to a close, their foreheads coming to rest together. Oliver breathed in and out slowly. “That was better than food.” 

Felicity let out a soft chuckle and nuzzled him. “I dunno, I’m really hungry.” 

“Ha, ha,” he said, kissing the apple of her cheek and then pulling away. “I think you’re lying to yourself a little, Ms. Smoak. Because I know you love kissing me.” He moved to scoop up the bag of food and carried it over to the sitting area in the corner of her office. 

Heaving a heavy, put-upon sigh, Felicity followed him. “It’s true, you are my weakness.” She paused, then shook her head. “No, you’re not. You’re my strength.”

Oliver’s head jerked up and he stared at her, a container of food half-out of the bag. “Really?” he asked, unable to look away from her.

Her forehead wrinkled as she looked back at him. “Yes, really,” she said slowly. “Of course you are, Oliver.” 

The food container got put on the coffee table, and then Oliver reached out and pulled Felicity down so he could kiss her again. And this time, the kiss was all clashing lips and tongues, hands going everywhere, and soft moans. 

When they both came up for air, Felicity looked at him, her face flushed and her eyes bright. “Wow. I kinda hate you, for starting that now when there’s no way I can leave early.” 

He swallowed and nodded, managing to grin back at her. “I kinda hate myself, too.” 

She giggled again and kissed his cheek before digging through the bag for her spare ribs. “Later,” she promised, curling in against his side as she attacked her food.

Taking his own lunch, Oliver started eating, feeling a warm glow inside him. Because this was what his life was now: eating lunch together, making promises. Sharing their lives. 

Ollie would have run from all of this, never knowing what he was missing. Oliver was glad he wasn’t that dumb kid anymore. Instead, he was just a lucky man.


	95. About three weeks into the summer, Felicity realized Oliver always made a point of bringing her a cup of coffee.

_About three weeks into the summer, Felicity realized Oliver always made a point of bringing her a cup of coffee._

It’s not exactly shocking: he knows she likes coffee, he’s seen how she gets when she’s undercaffeinated. And he’s brought her coffee before. Yet … it feels different now.

There’s a light in his eyes when he hands it over to her. He always waits until she takes the first sip, smiling when she lets out a soft sigh of pleasure at the taste of the really good coffee that he keeps buying, even though she says she doesn’t need the fancy stuff every day. But he just ignores her and keeps getting the good kind. Then, he kisses her cheek and goes back to whatever he was doing while she gets ready for work. 

Because good CEOs can’t run away with their new fiances for much longer than a week, unfortunately. And besides, she’s working on a very special project right now, one that will show Oliver just how much it meant to her, two years ago, when he said they were partners. 

So she waits until he brings her a mug of coffee, and they go through their same ritual, but before he can leave, she rests her hand on his arm. “I wanna talk to you about something. A work something. And it’s nothing bad–at least, I hope it’s not, but I won’t know if it’s good or bad until I tell you, which I’m going to do now.” She takes a breath, drawing confidence in Oliver’s amused smile.

“What is it, Felicity?” he asks, taking a sip from his own mug of coffee before sliding an arm around her waist. 

She gazes up at him. “You want to run a company with me?” 

Oliver blinks. “What?”

Stepping closer to him, Felicity rests her hand on his chest, right over his heart. “You said we were partners. And I want that to be true in every part of our lives. So … you want to help run the company formerly known at Palmer Technologies, formerly known as Queen Consolidated?” 

He’s not expecting it. But she knows he wants this, because his eyes light up, even as he shakes his head a little. “Felicity, the last time, I nearly destroyed everything–”

“Because you didn’t have me,” she said, rising up on her tiptoes to kiss his chin. “Now you do. We were unstoppable when we went up against Slade Wilson and Ra’s al Ghul; we can totally handle the business world. And–and I don’t want to do this without you. Not when it’s your family’s company.” 

Not when the ring on her finger means she’s becoming his family. 

The moment he spends looking into her eyes feels like forever. But then, he’s smiling and he’s hugging her, and somehow neither of them have their coffees anymore and she doesn’t even care, because Oliver is so much more important than coffee.


	96. "Oliver....you can't go answer the door like that!"

_"Oliver....you can't go answer the door like that!"_  
"Why not?"   
"Because IT'S MY MOTHER. And you have a hickey on your stomach!" 

“I do?” Oliver curved his back and ducked his head, finally spotting the reddish-purple blotch peeking over the waistband of his pajama pants. Felicity let out an “eep!” and Oliver looked at her. 

“What now?” he asked in confusion.

“Don’t do that! The whole sexy back thing so you can look at your stomach and see how I sucked on you so hard I broke blood vessels under your skin!”

Oliver can’t help smirking at her. “You make biology really sexy.” 

His fiancee ( _God_ , he loved calling her that) rolled her eyes and pushed past him. “Just go put a shirt on!” 

“Nope,” he said, following her to the door. “Because this would explain why you kept your mother waiting on your doorstep.”

“Trust me, she knew why the minute I told her we were together,” Felicity said under her breath, before she opened the door. “Hi, Mom. Sorry about that.” 

Donna Smoak, her hair perfectly curled and sporting a tight pink dress, looked amazing for a woman who had just taken an early-morning flight. But more than that, it was how her face lit up at the sight of Felicity that made Oliver smile. 

“Oh, baby!” she squealed, throwing her arms around Felicity while bouncing on her five-inch heels. “I’m so happy for you!”

From over Felicity’s shoulder, Donna beamed at Oliver, and he can see how Felicity’s shoulders have relaxed, and he bet his fiancee was smiling. 

Because there was something infectious about Donna, something that she had passed along to her daughter. A way that Felicity was like her mother. 

“Now tell me everything!” Donna said, pulling back and smiling at Felicity. “How did he propose? Is this the ring? Oh my God, I’m blind!” She laughed, throwing a wink at Oliver before taking another look at the four-carat diamond that was on Felicity’s finger.

“It was Oliver’s great-grandmother’s ring,” Felicity said, sounding proud and happy and still a little surprised. “And the proposal was perfect.” 

_If you call asking the woman you love to marry you while you were bound to another woman via a secretive cult’s rituals ‘perfect’_ , Oliver thought. But then Felicity looked at him, her eyes soft, and he knew what she was thinking. That she wouldn’t have it–wouldn’t have _him_ –any other way.

And that went double for him. So he smiled, and kissed Donna’s cheek and Felicity’s mouth, and said, “How about I go get you two some breakfast, so you can talk?” 

Felicity smiled at him. “You are the best fiance ever.” 

“Oh, you two are so cute!” Donna said, clapping her hands. “And breakfast sounds wonderful.” 

Oliver ducked his head and smiled a little, turning to go get dressed. Just as he stepped into the bedroom, though, he heard Donna speak. 

“Was that a hickey I saw on Oliver’s stomach? Baby girl, I am so proud of you!”


	97. three prompts

_1\. drive-in movie 2. baseball game 3. couples' massage_

1\. “I didn’t know there was a drive-in theater so close to Starling!”

Oliver smiled at Felicity. “Neither did I. Roy actually told me about this place.”

“Really?” Felicity said, smiling even as a touch of sadness filled her eyes at the reference to their friend.

Nodding, Oliver pulled into the space that the attendant directed them into. “Yeah, he said his buddies would ‘borrow’ a car and come out here sometimes.” He paused and frowned. “I hope he didn’t do that with Thea.”

Felicity laughed. “Because you don’t like the idea of your sister in a stolen car?”

“No, I don’t like the idea of my sister at a drive-in theater,” Oliver said, turning to Felicity with a small smile.

Her forehead crinkled. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t like thinking about my sister making out all through the movie, like I plan to do with you.” 

“But Oliver, I wanted to watch–ooooh …”

2\. It surprises her to find out that she likes going to baseball games with Oliver.

She’s never been a big sports fan, but baseball is different. It’s nerdy, for one thing, with all the stats and the history. It makes her think about sitting at blackjack tables in the not-so-nice casinos, getting real-world lessons in probability. 

But more than that, it’s because Oliver loves it so much. Something about the sunshine and the air, the smell of hot dogs and the satisfaction of a cold beer sliding down your throat, makes him relax in a way she doesn’t often see. Not when they’re out in public. 

With a baseball cap on his head and a team jersey on, he’s like any other fan, and they never attract much attention at games, even though he’s Oliver Queen, one of Starling City’s elites, and she’s Felicity Queen, CEO of Queen, Inc. 

Felicity looks at Oliver, taking in his slightly-squinty eyes as he watches the action on the field, at his relaxed shoulders and the hand that loosely grips his plastic cup of beer. She feels his even, steady breathing from where she’s leaning against his side, his other arm wrapped around her. 

Maybe what surprises her most about going to baseball games with Oliver is that she can’t wait to tell him that next season, there will be three Queens attending.

“Oliver? I have something to tell you.”

3\. Why did he agree to this?

Why did he agree to a couples’ massage? 

Because … he knew Felicity Smoak inside and out. He knew what makes her laugh, what makes her cry (and he works very hard to avoid those things) and he knew what makes her fist pump. He also knew what makes her let out those soft, breathy moans, the ones that go right to his cock and make him have to have her, right then, right now.

Usually, those moans happened when they’re in their bedroom, when he was between her legs and using his mouth on her. Not when they were in a dimly-lit room with smelly incense and weird chanting that passed as music. And definitely not when two women were there, rubbing and kneading their muscles. 

“Too tense,” his masseuse muttered, before gently poking him with a finger right between his shoulder blades. “Must relax. Is whole point, yes?”

“I am relaxed,” Oliver gritted out, telling himself not to shift his lower body. Because there was no more-comfortable position, and he just needed to get through this so he could get Felicity back to their room.

The woman in question lifted her hand and turned it to the side, gazing at him. “What’s wrong, Oliver?’ she asked, her voice soft and a bit slurred. She reached out lazily and touched his shoulder with the tips of her fingers. 

Looking at her, feeling her touch, automatically made a smidgen of the tension ease from him. “Nothing,” he said, snagging her hand and lacing his fingers through hers. “Just … keep looking at me?”

Felicity’s face softened and then she smiled at him gently. “Like that’s a hardship, Oliver.” 

He chuckled softly and squeezed her hand, and for the rest of the massage, he looked at her and felt like maybe this wasn’t so bad.

But as soon as they were done, he was definitely taking her, as soon as possible.


	98. "Hey Felicity..what's with oliver's black leather?? Is he in a new biker gang? Are you his Old Lady?"

_"Hey Felicity..what's with oliver's black leather?? Is he in a new biker gang? Are you his Old Lady?"_

“His **_what_**?” Felicity yelped before pulling the phone away from her ear, like looking at it would make Barry’s words make sense.

“I’ve been watching Sons of Anarchy,” Barry said, “and with Oliver’s new look …”

Rubbing a hand against her forehead, Felicity took a deep breath. “No, Barry, Oliver is not in a biker gang. He had to join the League of Assassins. It’s a long story.”

“Oh. So no biker gang?” 

“No. And actually, he’s all done with that,” Felicity said, feeling her irritation at Barry’s interruption slip away as she turned her head to look at Oliver. Oliver, whose hair was too short, yes, but who was sitting beside her, driving this Porsche that they were both in, wearing boots and jeans and a henley. Oliver, wearing sunglasses and a happy, content smile that she had never seen on his face before. At least, never for this long. Oliver. 

Her fiance.

“Felicity? You still there? Is everything okay?”

“Tell Barry you’re busy,” Oliver said, pulling over to the side of the road. “Because it’s been a half hour since I’ve kissed you.”

“Wait, is that Oliver with you now? Talking about kissing you?” Barry asked, sounding like Christmas had come early. “Are you guys together now? For real?”

Oliver was giving her that look, the one that made her toes curl, and she quickly said, “Gotta go, Barry, call you later, bye!”

And Oliver was laughing as he leaned in to kiss her, and she was wrapping her arms around him tightly, and the gear shift was digging into her stomach and she might have dropped her phone in-between the seats, but she doesn’t care.

Because right now, it’s all about kissing the man she was going to marry.


	99. "Get your ass in my bed. Now."

_"Get your ass in my bed. Now."_

“Yes, ma’am,” Oliver said with a grin, walking over and standing at the foot of Felicity’s bed. Because really … he didn’t want to draw this out any longer. Because here they were, in Felicity’s apartment, getting ready to make love for the first time since Nanda Parbat. And what her bedroom lacked in opulent sensual luxury, it more than made up for in the very Felicity-ness of the room. From the pale purple walls, the clean lines of the modern furniture, and the random knickknacks and accouterments of her life … he felt like he was surrounded by her. 

Oliver had never felt so safe as he did right now. 

Slowly, he knelt on the bed and started crawling up towards the headboard, his whole body tingling as he came closer to her. Her eyes, bright and blue and so full of strength and love and warmth, made him want to drown. 

“Oliver,” she whispered, her hands running up his arms as he reached her, his hands on either side of her head and his knees by her hips. 

“I used to dream about this,” he said, gazing down at her. “Being here in your apartment, being with you–sharing my life with you.” 

She bit her lower lip, her eyes sparkling. “Me, too,” she said, still touching him. “Oliver …”

Leaning down, he kissed her slowly, softly, taking his time. Unlike the last time–their first time–they weren’t in the middle of some dangerous, unknown situation. There was nothing waiting for them but the rest of their lives. 

Lives that they were going to share. There was no way he was going to let her go, not now. He had always known if he gave himself to Felicity that it would be life-altering; now he knew that for the rest of his life, he wouldn’t divide his existence into pre-island and post-island.

No, it was now pre-Felicity and post-Felicity. 

They made love slowly, gazing into each others’ eyes, never breaking the connection between them. And when they climaxed within seconds of each other, Oliver couldn’t help the words from falling from his lips.

“Felicity–Felicity, marry me.”


	100. "You're not the only one with wicked aim"

_"You're not the only one with wicked aim"_

Felicity grinned at the awestruck look on Oliver’s face and did a fist pump. “Ha! I so win laundry basketball!” 

“This game is ridiculous,” Oliver protested, his hands on his hips. “The rules bear no resemblance to actual basketball.” 

“Of course not. It’s laundry basketball,” Felicity said, grinning at him. And then she let her eyes drift over his bare chest. 

Because the whole reason to play laundry basketball was because the need to do laundry was so acute, neither of them had anything to wear. So Oliver was just in his boxer briefs, and she was wearing a non-matching bra and panty set. 

“First off, the rules are completely random. Socks must be not be balled up? Extra points if you get underwear over the agitator?” Oliver was working up a good head of steam, which made his chest heave a little bit. “And I won’t even get started on your unfair advantage.”

That made her eyes zoom from his chest to his eyes. “What?” she yelped, stepping towards him. “Who’s over six feet, and who isn’t in this relationship?” She slapped his shoulder lightly. “You’ve got the unfair advantage.” 

Oliver shook his head. “I disagree. Because I’m naked from the waist up, and you are not, Ms. Smoak.” 

And then he blatantly looked at her chest. His eyes tracing the line of her bra, so slowly that she could almost feel his fingers touching her skin. 

She swallowed as her nipples puckered. And then Oliver was looking at her face, his eyes challenging and his mouth smirking.

And Felicity Smoak never backed down from a challenge. 

“Fine,” she said, working really hard to keep her voice airy and disinterested. “Let’s see you score on me when my bra’s off.”

His eyebrow quirked, as if he was waiting for her to get embarrassed. But Felicity just smirked at him. “Oh, I totally meant to say that,” she said, reaching behind her to unclasp her bra.

Before she could even grasp her bra strap, though, she had over six feet of strong, muscled man, wrapped around her as Oliver kissed her.

She totally won. More than just laundry basketball.


	101. "That smells so good"

_"That smells so good"_

“Oliver!” 

Felicity startled, bobbling the bottle of perfume in her hand. Only Oliver’s quick reflexes kept it from crashing to the tile floor. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, smiling at her. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Hey.” 

He leaned in and kissed her softly, his lips warm and firm against hers, and Felicity couldn’t help melting. “Mmmmm,” she said against his mouth, her hand reaching up to grasp his shoulder.

His hand landed on her hip, squeezing lightly. “Okay?” he asked, dipping his head to brush his nose against her neck. 

“Yeah–I didn’t know you were home,” she said, tilting her head a little. “And thank you for saying I smell good.” 

She could feel his lips against her neck and she knew his mouth was smiling. “You do. Very good.” His hand tightened. “Did you–you wore this perfume on our date.”

Gently, Felicity pushed on his shoulders so she could see his face. “I did,” she said, gazing at him. 

Oliver nodded, his eyes looking so far away. “When I carried you out of the restaurant, and then into the lair–I caught whiffs of it. Under the ash and smoke.” 

Rubbing his shoulders, she nodded. “I … I hoped you’d get close enough, so you could … catch a whiff.” 

Whatever bad place he had gone to, Oliver returned to her, his eyes meeting hers. He gave her a soft smile. “Yeah, I hoped I’d get close to you, too.” 

Felicity couldn’t help smiling back. “You know, I don’t wear this perfume very often. Maybe–maybe you should just really breathe it in. So you can tell me if you really like it. Not that I wouldn’t keep wearing it if I liked it and you didn’t, but I’d like to know your opinion.” 

Slowly, keeping her eyes on his, she craned her neck back as she turned her body, giving him full access to her throat, to the pulse point where she had lightly sprayed the fragrance. 

His eyes darkened yet his smile stayed soft and warm and full of love. It was a frankly devastating combo.

And when his lips began brushing over her skin, Felicity closed her eyes and held on to him tightly.


	102. "Felicity, you got me a tiny bow and arrow for my birthday?"

_"Felicity, you got me a tiny bow and arrow for my birthday?"_

“Yes. Yes, I did.” 

Oliver blinked. Something was off about Felicity. Had been for the last week or so. Honestly, he had mostly thought it had to do with his birthday. With her feeling some kind of odd pressure to make an occasion out of it, even though he told her she didn’t need to. Because just spending the day with her was the only gift that mattered.

But then, she had given him the small box and watched, her fingers rubbing together so like he did when he was nervous, as he unwrapped it.

Slowly, Oliver lifted the bow and arrow from the box. The arrow looked to be the size of a pencil, while the bow was dwarfed by his hand. He looked at them for a long moment, then finally looked at Felicity. 

“I know you said you didn’t want anything special for your birthday, and–and so all I was going to do was get takeout and queue up Mythbusters, but–but then I got this idea, so I got that for you,” Felicity said, stuttering a little over her words.

“Hey, hey,” he said, holding both bow and arrow in one hand so he could take her hand and pull her close to him. “Felicity, it’s okay. But something’s bothering you, so please, just talk to me?” He tried to smile. “Like tell me about why this?” he asked, holding up the bow and arrow.

She looked at him, nibbling on her lower lip even as her eyes were steady and sure. “I … I wanted us to be ready.”

“Ready for what?” he asked, looking down at the toys in his hand and then–

_Wait._

Oliver’s eyes jerked to meet Felicity’s, and she nodded slowly, even as she squeezed his hand and a single tear tracked down her cheek. 

“You’re all set to teach our son or daughter archery,” she whispered.


	103. "I can't find it!"

_"I can't find it!"_

“What?” Felicity said, her head whipping around to look at Oliver. 

“I can’t find it,” he repeated, looking frazzled. He ran his hand through his hair, making it spike up. 

Felicity frowned. “You can’t find what?”

He looked up, his eyes wide. Like he was surprised she was asking him that question. Then, after a moment, he said, “My–my passport.”

“Oliver, how did you lose your passport?” Felicity asked, feeling her anticipation change to anxiety. “If you don’t have it, we can’t go!”

Her husband (God, she never got tired of thinking of Oliver as her husband) shot her a look. “I know, Felicity,” he said, rummaging through his dresser. “I know it was here–I just saw it a few days ago.”

“Let me help,” she said, putting down her tote bag and walking over to join him by the dresser. 

“No–no, I’ve got it,” he said quickly. Too quickly. 

Felicity took a step back and really looked at Oliver. At how he was carefully avoiding her eyes, at how he was moving things around without really looking. At–

“What’s this?” she asked, yanking his passport out of the back pocket of his jeans.

At the same moment, Oliver huffed out a breath. “Finally!” he said, pulling a box out of the back of her underwear drawer.

Was he hiding things in _her_ underwear drawer? And why had he said he was looking for his passport when he clearly had it.

“Oliver, what is going on?” she asked, pulling him around to face her. 

He looked at her, then sighed. “I ruined your birthday surprise.”

“The trip is my birthday present, you said–and your passport is right here in my hand, so I don’t–”

But Felicity stopped talking when Oliver opened the box, revealing a glittering diamond ring. 

She stared at the ring, even as Oliver took the ring from the box and lifted her left hand. 

“I told you when I put this on your finger that I had a real ring for you,” Oliver said softly, tugging gently on the piece of twine wrapped around her finger–the twine that stood in for an engagement ring, since Oliver had proposed and they had gotten married immediately afterwards. They had matching wedding bands, a gift from John and Lyla, but Oliver had just shaken his head when Digg asked about an engagement ring. 

“That–I don’t need an engagement ring, I told you that,” Felicity said, feeling like there was a boulder in her throat. 

Oliver’s eyes were warm and soft as he gazed at her. “I know you said that, but I want you to have this. It’s a Queen family heirloom, and it should be on your finger. On my wife’s hand.”

Felicity felt tears threaten but she managed to hold them back. She gave Oliver a tremulous smile. “Okay. But–but don’t take off the twine. We’ll leave it until it falls off.”

If it was possible, Oliver’s heart was even more visible in his eyes. “Okay,” he said softly, gently pulling off her wedding band in order to slide the absolutely beautiful diamond ring onto her finger. He quickly replaced her wedding band and then gazed at her hand, holding it in both of his. 

“It’s so beautiful.” Felicity felt the tears slip down her face, and she quickly wiped them away with her free hand.

“Not as beautiful as you, Mrs. Queen,” Oliver said, his voice so sure and certain. 

And clearly, the only response she could make was to kiss him. So she did. Felicity kissed her husband with all the love she had in her heart for him, even if it meant they might miss their flight.

They could miss flights. But she didn’t want them to miss their lives.


	104. "You want to do WHAT for our second first date?"

_"You want to do WHAT for our second first date?"_

Oliver swallowed. Maybe this wasn’t the great idea it had seemed like, at two o’clock this morning, laying in bed next to her. But he refused to ever take back his feelings when it came to her. And what he had said to her was so completely tied up in how he felt about her.

“I want to marry you,” he repeated. “I want us to go to the courthouse, just us, and get married.”

She blinked, looking up at him. There was that crinkle in her forehead, the one she got when she was trying to hack her way into a stubborn server or like that time he and John had tried to explain the infield fly rule. The one that indicated her complete and utter confusion. And that didn’t happen much, since the woman he loved was a certified genius.

So Oliver cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs stroking her cheeks. “I love you. I know it’s not the way most people do it: get married on their second first date. But how many people have second first dates at all? And–and we’re not like other people. We’re past dating, past figuring out if we might have something, like you do when you start dating.” He searched her face. “I … there’s no one else but you, Felicity. And we’ve already waited so long–I don’t want–” 

“Oliver,” she whispered, bringing her hand up to rest against his lips. “Stop talking.” 

His heart felt like it was plummeting to his shoes. God, he hoped she just wanted to wait. He could wait, he would wait forever, just as long as she–

“Yes.”

Now it was his turn to blink. “Yes?”

Felicity nodded, a smile appearing on her face. The smile that he felt like was his. “Yes. Let’s get married.”


	105. "Oliver, Bed, Bath and Beyond Coupons don't expire."

_"Oliver, Bed, Bath and Beyond Coupons don't expire."_

“Oh.” He frowned, looking at the coupon in his hand, then looked back at her. “But they’ve got an expiration date right here–”

God, her former-billionaire boyfriend was _adorable_. Felicity smiled and wrapped her hands around his bicep. “I know, but the trick is, they’ll always take them.”

“Then why bother with an expiration date?” he asked, looking utterly confused. Which honestly was one of her favorite looks on him, because of the adorable. 

“I don’t know,” she admitted. 

Oliver’s face lit up as he smiled. “Something you don’t know? I didn’t think that was possible.” 

She hid her face in his shoulder so he couldn’t see how she blushed. Because . . they had been together for four months. They had known each other for three years. There was absolutely no reason to blush and giggle like a schoolgirl. 

But from once being unthinkable, now they were very thinkable. They were all she thought about some days. How happy she was, how an hour apart felt so much longer than sixty minutes, how they were so good together. 

How happy Oliver was. And that was everything.

“C’mon,” he said, wrapping an arm around her. “Since you insist I need more sheets, you get to pick them out.”

“Oliver, I know it sucks having to change and wash your own sheets, but you’re not a frat boy anymore–as an adult male, you should have more than one set of sheets.”

“I was a frat boy at only one of the four colleges I went to,” Oliver pointed out as they headed to the bedding aisles. “And if you moved in with me, you could bring your sheets, and we’d have more than one set.”

Felicity came to a dead stop and stared up at him. “What?”

His throat worked a little, then he gave her a small, lopsided, sheepish smile. “Move in with me?” 

There were so many questions she could ask, so many things they should talk about. But … but none of that mattered. Not at the prospect of living with Oliver. Making a home with him. 

She threw her arms around him and kissed him eagerly. And he kissed her right back, in the too-bright confines of a home goods store, and like every other moment with them, it was perfect.

But then she pulled back and looked up at him. “We’re still getting you new sheets.”


	106. "You can't just whisk me away to Paris every time you do something stupid, Oliver"

_"You can't just whisk me away to Paris every time you do something stupid, Oliver"_

“I know. Because there’s Italy, and Hawaii, and Tahiti, and believe it or not, Argentina is really romantic–”

Oliver broke off with a laugh as Felicity hit him in the face with her pillow. “I’m being serious here!” she said, still brandishing her weapon.

“So am I,” he said, reaching to pull her on top of him. “Because I do a lot of stupid things, Felicity.” 

She sighed, dropping the pillow and leaning down, her hands landing on either side of his head. “Don’t say that. I love you, but you don’t have to feel like you need to buy me–”

“I don’t,” he said, stroking her thighs slowly. “I just–I want to take care of you. I want to make you happy.”

“Oliver,” she said, her eyes locked on his. “You do. You do when you smile at me, or when you make the coffee in the morning, or when you notice I’m hunching at the computer and you start rubbing my shoulders.” 

Sometimes, it amazed him how little she asked of him. And how much. Because those things didn’t feel like anything special to him–noticing when she was tired, making sure she ate or that she had a full tank of gas. 

Yet at the same time, she demanded honesty and respect and trust from him. Even when he wanted to keep her safe, keep her protected, she wanted to know. It was still the source of most of their disagreements, most of their fights. And when that happened, he just wanted to get her out of Starling, take her someplace as beautiful and special as her, so she would know what she meant to him. 

Regaining control of his family’s company meant he could do those things. Whisk her away to Paris or anyplace in the world. 

But she would be happy if he took her to Big Belly for dinner. 

Slowly, he reached up and brushed some of her hair back. “I’m never going to not want to do this. But I can ease back.” 

Her smile was bright and soft at the same time, making him feel like he was home, even though they were thousands of miles from Starling City. “And … and I can get used to getting more stamps in my passport. Which I’ve always wanted, actually. I used to dream of seeing the world. At least, the parts that didn’t require shots to visit. Because, you know–needles.” 

And now he was laughing, pulling her down to hug her, to press a kiss to her lips, to show her how he loved her. 

Showing her in the way he loved most of all.


	107. If you wanted french fries, you should have ordered some!

_If you wanted french fries, you should have ordered some!_

“It’s more fun to steal them from you,” Felicity said, giving him a cheeky smile. 

He pointed at her, the move losing some of its power with the milkshake he had in the same hand. “You’re lucky I love you, Felicity Smoak.”

“I am,” she said brightly, dredging one of the fries through the puddle of ketchup on her plate.

Huffing out a laugh, Oliver shook his head and took a sip of his milkshake. “Thank God Thea couldn’t make it. I’d barely get any food between the two of you.” 

Felicity rested her chin on her fist, giving him that flirty smile that he loved. And it made him forget all his complaints, made him not even care about the french fries–which he really didn’t care about, really. 

All he cared about was Felicity. 

And that made him ask something he had always wondered about. 

“You remember on our first case together? The Dodger?” 

She nodded, her face lighting up. “We were here, planning out how we were going to get him.”

“Yeah,” Oliver said, reaching out to take her free hand. “But actually … that dress. The gold one. Did you … did you wear it, hoping I’d notice you?”

Behind her glasses, her eyes widened. “What?”

Oliver smiled at her softly. “Felicity. It was the first time I saw you without your glasses. Without your ponytail. Combined with that dress? I definitely noticed you.”

Her cheeks went pink. “Yeah? I mean, I thought you did, but … but you didn’t say anything, and you were wearing that tux with the tie, and you looked really good. And somehow I managed not to babble about it. I wanted to make a good impression on you. And Digg. I wanted to fit in.” 

With everything they had talked about since getting together, Oliver had an idea she meant so much more than just fitting in with the team. When they had met, Felicity was looking for her place, just like he had been. 

And they had found their places, with each other. 

“Well, I noticed you,” he repeated, playing with her fingers. “A lot. You broke out of the box I had put you in. Just like you always did. I kept trying to say you were just Felicity. Just someone I worked with. Just my friend.” He gazed at her. “But whenever I thought that, you found a way to be so much more than ‘just’ anything.”

“Oliver …” she said slowly, her face going all soft, her eyes looking away shyly. 

“So did you wear it for me, Felicity?” he asked, leaning forward. Not missing how she hadn’t really answered his question. Wanting to know. Wanting to reassure her that he had been with her, from the very beginning, in knowing how important she was to him. Just like she had somehow known he could be more than a man in a hood. 

Her eyes flicked to his, and she nodded slowly. “Yes. I wore it for you.”


	108. The first time he said 'As you wish' they didn't leave their rental cottage for 24 hours.

_The first time he said 'As you wish' they didn't leave their rental cottage for 24 hours._

Felicity whipped her head around, not sure she had heard what she thought she heard. “What?”

There’s a small smile on Oliver’s face. One that’s a little shy, one that reminds her of the way he had smiled at her when he asked her out. “As you wish.” 

“I–I thought you said you hadn’t seen _The Princess Bride_ ,” she said, her brain feeling sluggish.

His stupidly, wonderfully broad shoulders shrugged. “When I can’t sleep, I … I’ve been catching up on the holes in my pop culture knowledge.”

Her mouth fell open. “You watched _The Princess Bride_ without me?!?”

Oliver’s face fell. “What?”

“I swear to God, Oliver Queen, you are the most infuriating man ever!” And with that, Felicity let her purse drop to the floor and crossed the room to him, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him in for a long, hot kiss.

He pulled back from her after a moment, staring at her. “Um, I’m getting some mixed signals here.” 

“You should have woken me up and we could have watched together!” she said, keeping her arms around his neck and gazing up at him. “Or waited to watch it when I woke up. You–you don’t have to hide away and feel embarrassed, Oliver. I mean, part of the fun when you watch something with a virgin is getting to watch the movie through new eyes. It makes the movie brand-new.” 

“A virgin?” he asked, his eyebrows raised. 

Lightly slapping his shoulder, she smiled at him. “You know what I mean.” 

Oliver chuckled and nodded. “I get what you mean. And … I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”

She pecked his lips. “It’s okay. I forgive you. Because there’s still plenty of shows and movies we can watch together. But later.” 

His arms tightened around her waist. “Hmmm,” he said, his eyes going dark. “I wonder what you’re thinking.” 

“Shut up and kiss me,” Felicity retorted, pulling him back down. 

“As you wish,” Oliver said just before their lips met. And then there were hands going everywhere, clothes flying around the room, and they fell onto the bed together. 

For the next eighteen hours, there was a lot of times when “As you wish” was said, under much more erotic circumstances than in the all-ages romantic adventure comedy. And when Felicity fell asleep, she dreamed of Oliver as Westley and herself as Princess Buttercup, until Oliver woke up her, laughing, and told her that she was muttering “As you wish” in her sleep.

So of course she pinned him to the mattress to get him to say it to her again.


	109. Oliver finds out that Barry and Felicity kissed.

_Oliver finds out that Barry and Felicity kissed._

Felicity’s eyes widened and she looked over at Oliver as Mari leaned in to sniff her. “Umm … not that I’m flattered that you like my perfume, Mari, but–”

“It’s not your perfume,” Mari said. “There’s something else. Someone’s scent on you.” 

Oliver grinned a little as Felicity blushed. “Oh, that would be, y’know, Oliver.”

“Oh, he’s there,” Mari replied, glancing over at Oliver. “But there’s someone else’s scent here, too. Very old. You smell like Barry.” 

“What?!?” Oliver blurted out immediately, staring at Felicity.

Mari jerked back from Felicity, going red. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She gave her head a shake. “The bear we encountered, I imbibed its sense of smell–the bear has the best sense of smell of any terrestrial mammal.” 

That still didn’t answer Oliver’s question. How did Felicity get to smell like Barry? His mind raced, trying to come up with an explanation, trying not to feel the crushing hurt. Because he knew there was no way it happened once they were together–Felicity prized monogamy–and the last time she was in Central City, she had gone with Ray, so … when? And just what had she done with Barry to get his scent on her, and he knew he couldn’t get mad at her because they weren’t together then, but he still felt the sting of jealousy. Especially when he remembered Barry’s taunt about Oliver never having felt jealousy before.

Suddenly he felt Felicity’s hand wrap around his wrist and she tugged him out of the lab, moving down one of the endless hallways of STAR Labs. “Okay, we need to be alone for this talk, without the girl who can smell like a bear,” he heard Felicity mutter.

“Felicity, it–it’s okay. I know nothing happened while we were together,” he said. “I’m not jealous.” He mostly meant it, too.

“Yeah, you are, but I mean, it’s okay. And you must have a million questions, and I wanna answer them,” Felicity said, looking up at him before scanning the hallway. “But I want to do it in private.” 

His eyebrows came together as he tried to figure out why. Felicity slowed, then reached out and touched the wall. A small smile flickered over her face as the wall slid back, revealing some kind of storage closet. “Perfect,” she muttered, stepping inside and yanking him along after her. 

“Felicity, really, I get it–”

Her hands cupped his face, pulling his eyes to hers. “No, you don’t. I kissed Barry, when I came here the first time after he woke up from his coma. Because we had both realized that even though we were perfectly perfect for each other, it didn’t matter. We both loved other people.” 

“Oh,” he said quietly. 

Felicity gave him a small, sad smile. “For a genius, though, I’m really dumb. Because then I turned around and dated Ray, who was the same as Barry. Perfect on paper, but not perfect for me.” 

“You’re not dumb,” he said, wrapping his arms around her waist slowly. “I didn’t exactly give you any reason to think we were going to happen.” 

“We both made mistakes,” Felicity said, nuzzling him. “Although both Barry and Ray were not mistakes, just … guys I shouldn’t have been considering.” 

Giving in to his always-present desire, Oliver brushed his lips over hers. “I think you should know, I have no intention of letting you kiss anyone else.” 

Her smile was so wide, Felicity’s dimples appeared. “Oh, is that so?” 

He nodded, smiling back. “That is so.” 

“Mmmm,” Felicity said, kissing him slowly. 

Even though he was pretty sure Felicity led them into this supply closet so they could talk in private, he wanted more than talk. His hands slid lower, pulling her against him, and Felicity moaned. 

“Oliver …” she whispered against his lips, before she jumped up and wrapped her legs around his hips.

He spun around and pressed her back against the wall, rocking his hips hard towards her center. “Felicity.” 

“Yes,” she said, her eyes bright behind her glasses, and Oliver smiled at her as he started tugging at their clothes. She helped him, her fingers moving against him and making him suck in a breath. 

“Felicity–Felicity, now,” he gasped, and she smiled at him so softly, so full of love, as she drew him inside. 

And any thought of whoever else Felicity might smell like or who else she might have kissed vanished as he thrust slowly. As he watched her face, seeing every bit of her love for him. 

That was all that mattered. Her and him.


	110. On their road trip, Oliver and Felicity wind up at a county fair.

_On their road trip, Oliver and Felicity wind up at a county fair._

Felicity smiled at Oliver as they walked through the fair. One of her hands was holding his and swinging their joined hands back and forth as they walked. Her other hand was holding a nearly-empty cone of cotton candy. 

“I don’t know how you can eat that,” Oliver said, licking his ice cream cone, a large stuffed gorilla in the crook of his arm. 

“It’s perfect. Just sweet enough,” Felicity replied, grinning at him. “You sure you don’t wanna try it?”

He gestured to his ice cream cone. “Until I can kiss you again, this is enough sugar for me.” 

She wrinkled her nose. “Please, never say ‘give me some sugar’ before you kiss me. I’m begging you, Oliver.”

Laughing, he ducked his head. “I don’t think even I could get that sappy.” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” she joked, licking up the last of her cotton candy and using her tongue to catch a bit that didn’t make it into her mouth.

Oliver’s eyes darkened slightly and he pulled her in for a slow kiss. She smiled against his lips, since he had ended up getting a taste of her cotton candy, after all. 

“Mmmm,” she said, pulling away. “C’mon. I want to win you another stuffed animal.” 

“Is this part of growing up in Vegas? Knowing how to beat all the rigged games?” he asked, letting go of her hand and wrapping his arm around her waist. 

“Or I’m just better at these games,” Felicity replied. 

As she expected, Oliver straightened up. “Are you challenging me, Ms. Smoak?”

“I believe I am, Mr. Queen,” she said saucily. “Winner buys the caramel corn?”

“You are on,” he said, looking around. “You, me, shooting gallery, now.” 

Crap. He would pick that, Felicity thought. But at least she would get caramel corn out of the bargain. And besides, when Oliver felt competitive in one area, it tended to bleed over into other areas. Like ‘giving Felicity a lot of orgasms’ areas. Which was the textbook definition of a win-win. 

So Felicity smiled and followed Oliver, watching his ass in his jeans as he picked up the air rifle and aimed for a target. 

Make that a win-win-win.


	111. Olicity, finding some time from their busy careers and lives, and getting time for themselves and their marriage

_Olicity, finding some time from their busy careers and lives, and getting time for themselves and their marriage_

Oliver smiled and leaned across the table, wiping some syrup from the face of his three-year-old son. Then he glanced over at Felicity. “How’s it looking?”

Felicity glanced up from her tablet and made a little face. “Do you see the fist pump, Oliver?” 

“Sorry, Mrs. Queen,” he said with a smile, then turned back to Harper. Who had syrup on his face again. “How do you do that, Harper?” he asked, wrinkling his nose. 

Eyes the same color as Felicity’s sparkled at him. “It’s good, Daddy,” Harper said, running his tongue around his mouth. 

“Napkin, Harper,” Oliver said, just as Emilia dashed into the kitchen, her tiny brows creased. 

“Mommy, where is my leotard?” Dumping her ballet bag on the floor, their eight-year-old sat down in the middle of the kitchen floor and started rooting through her pink duffle. 

“It’s in the laundry basket, Emilia,” Oliver said. “Once you’ve got it, sit down and eat your breakfast.”

Her face, so like his when he was worried, smoothed and a small smile appeared. “Thanks, Daddy.” She came over and kissed his cheek before heading to the laundry room.

“Yes!” 

Oliver turned his head in time to see the hoped-for fist pump. “You got it?”

“Of course I got it,” Felicity said, setting her tablet down and walking over to perch on his knee. “And now that’s taken care of, date night is saved.” 

“My hero,” Oliver breathed out, smiling at her. 

A bright smile lit up her face and she leaned in to kiss him softly. 

“Ewwwww.” Emilia and Harper joined together in expressing their displeasure for their parents’ activities, but Oliver didn’t pay them much mind. With two kids, day jobs and night jobs, there weren’t many times it could be just Felicity and him and nothing else. And this kiss was a hint of things to come–so he was going to enjoy it for an extra moment, before life picked back up again.

End.

(I know other writers have used Harper and Emilia as the names of Oliver and Felicity’s kids; I can’t remember who, but consider this my hat tip to those writers. [grin])


	112. How about something about Felicity and Oliver talking about Moira

_How about something about Felicity and Oliver talking about Moira_

They were lying in bed, naked after their latest round of lovemaking, Oliver’s hand lazily stroking over her back, when his whole body went tense. 

“Oliver?” she asked, the worry obvious in her voice as she lifted her head from his chest. 

“My mother.” Oliver’s eyes are wide and grief-stricken. “I forgot. The anniversary.” 

Of her death, Felicity realized. Because of Ra’s Al Ghul and Al Sah-him and the Alpha/Omega virus, Oliver had forgotten the death of Moira Queen. 

“Shhh,” she said immediately, reaching out to run her hands over his hair and cheeks and jaw. “Oliver, it’s not about remembering her on that day. It’s about remembering her, period. And she knows how much you miss her.” 

He closed his eyes, but not before she saw the pain in his eyes. It had been weeks since she saw anything but happiness and love and joy in his blue orbs and she felt her throat close up at this reminder of how many hurts he had inside his heart. The fact that he was even able to be happy now, after everything he had suffered–he was so strong, and he didn’t even realize it, and it made her love him so much. 

Lifting herself up, Felicity straddled his waist and cupped his face in his hands, rubbing her thumbs against his cheeks. She leaned forward to rest her forehead against his, breathing slowly. And after a few moments, she felt his body fall into sync with hers. His chest rose and fell in time with hers, his hands came up to rub her shoulders like she rubbed his cheeks. When his eyes opened, the pain was still there, but it had eased a little. Mellowed and become manageable. 

Felicity smiled softly at him. “I love you.” 

His smile was weak, but he was smiling. “I love you, too.” He breathed out heavily. “I know she wasn’t the warmest person, but she was my mother.” 

“I know. She loved you so much. All she wanted was to keep you safe,” Felicity said. “Like mother, like son.” 

Oliver gazed into her eyes. “You think so?” 

She nodded. “Remember when I told you about Thea? About Malcolm being her father?”

Nodding, he didn’t say anything, his eyes not looking away from hers. Felicity took a deep breath. “I went to Moira first, because I wanted her to be the one to tell you. And she … well, she threatened me. Kinda.” 

“What?!?” Oliver said sharply, his eyes snapping with anger. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Felicity reassured him, bringing one hand to his shoulder and easing him back against the pillows. “I knew she was doing it because she was worried. Scared of losing you. Because only a woman with so much to lose would raise and call like she did.” 

He frowned. “What did she say?”

Her cheeks were going pink–Felicity could feel the heat in her cheeks. “She–she said you would hate me if I told you about Thea. ‘I see the way you look at him’,” she quoted, the words burned into her memory. “It … it was a shock. Because I thought I hid it so well. I mean, Digg knew, I knew that, but he was around us all the time. Your mother barely knew me and she could see how I felt about you.” 

“She was wrong about that,” Oliver said, his hands sliding around her and running over her back in long, smoothing strokes. “I could never hate you. Not when I knew you were telling me the truth, not when I could see how much it hurt you to be the one to tell me.” 

She chewed on her lower lip. “Really?” 

“Really,” Oliver said, his eyes soft and warm and filled with love. He lifted up and brushed a soft kiss over her mouth, and Felicity relaxed against him. 

“My mother had freaky intuition,” he continued quietly. “Did I ever tell you that she told me she knew I was the Arrow?”

“No!” Felicity exclaimed, her eyes going wide. “She knew?” 

Oliver gave her a small, quirked-corners smile. “Just before she died. She said she had known since before the Undertaking. And she told me she was proud of me.” 

Breathing out, Felicity felt speechless for a moment. Because … Moira Queen had been a hard woman to understand. Even now, Felicity didn’t understand how she had allowed herself to get sucked up into Malcolm Merlyn’s plots. But when it came to her children, Moira had been transparent. 

“Oh, Oliver,” she said, stroking his cheek. “I’m so glad. That she got the chance to tell you that.” 

He nodded, his eyes going unfocused for a moment. “Me, too.” 

Leaning in, she kissed him softly once, twice, then a third time. “She loved you. And you loved her. She’s always with you, Oliver, and I know she would be so happy to see you now. To see what you’ve become.” 

“Thank you.” 

Felicity tilted her head to the side. “Thank you for what?” 

With a small smile, he shrugged his shoulders before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her down against him. “For being a big part of the reason I’m who I am now. I think, after she got to know you, my mom would have liked you.” 

Although Felicity wasn’t so sure, she wasn’t about to contradict Oliver right now. So instead, she smiled at him, and kissed him again, and encouraged him to talk about his mother some more. 

And by the end of the night, when Oliver had talked himself out and slipped off to sleep as the sun just started to rise, Felicity found herself agreeing with him. Moira Queen might have come to like Felicity Smoak, just like she would have grown to like Oliver’s mother.

After all, they had love for Oliver to bring them together.


	113. Oliver finds his phone with 8 missed calls from Felicity

_Oliver finds his phone with 8 missed calls from Felicity_

If he had known running for mayor would involve four-hour meetings with no cell phones allowed, Oliver might have reconsidered his choice of campaign manager. But Mark Francis really was the best, based on what he had done for his mother’s campaign, and at least Oliver knew the man would be willing to listen to his side when they differed on ways to approach something.

But still, he was glad for the break to get some fresh air, get some real food, and talk to Felicity. 

Pulling out his phone, he frowned when he realized he had a missed call.

Correction. _Eight_ missed calls. Eight missed calls, on the half-hour and hour during his meeting. 

There weren’t any texts, no sign of calls from Digg or Thea, so it wasn’t an Arrow–no, a _Green_ Arrow-related emergency. But his heart was still pounding as he hit Felicity’s contact. 

The phone barely had finished its second ring when there was a click and Felicity’s frantic voice. “Oliver?!?”

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m here. I’m sorry, the meeting went longer than I thought and you know how Mark is about cell phones during meetings–”

“I know,” she replied, sniffing. “I’m sorry, I just–” 

“Felicity, what’s wrong?” He gripped the phone tightly, a million different fears going through his head. Shuffling through them like they were a deck of cards.

He could hear another sniff and what sounded like a choked-back sob, before she cried, “She’s gone!”

Oh, God. Was it her mom? His sister? Oliver stood very still, trying not to break down. It must be her mom, and he felt his whole body go cold at the thought of never talking to Donna Smoak again, never getting the chance to tell her about the engagement ring he had been carrying for two months, never seeing her face when she saw Felicity marry him, visiting them in their future homes, seeing her grandchildren … 

Swallowing, Oliver took a breath. “I know it hurts, Felicity. I’ll come right home and we can get started. We’ll get tickets for the next flight to Vegas so we can start making the arrangements.”

There was a long pause. “Oliver, what are you talking about?” Now, Felicity just sounded confused, not grief-stricken.

“You … you said ‘she’s gone’ and burst into tears–I thought your mom might have …”

“What?!?” Felicity yelped. “No, no, no! My mom is fine! She’s wonderful. No, it’s Lucy!”

His brows furrowed as he tried to remember if he had ever heard Felicity talk about a friend with that name. “Lucy.” 

“Yes, Lucy! The first laptop I built when I moved to Starling? I’ve been tinkering with her, trying to keep her updated, but … but she gave up the ghost today and there’s nothing I can do.” Felicity sniffed again.

Oh, thank God. He thought she was talking about a person!

“She’s like a person to me!”

Shit. He had said that out loud. Of all of Felicity’s qualities for him to pick up, he had chosen _that one_?

“I know, I know,” he said quickly, seeing Mark point to his watch, as a sign to wrap up his call so they could get back to work. “Look, I’m gonna wrap things up here, and then I’ll get some mint chip on the way home and we can talk all about it. Okay?”

Felicity sniffed. “Okay. Get two pints, please?” 

“Two pints, I swear,” Oliver said, walking towards Mark. “I’ll see you at home. I love you.” 

“I love you, too. Bye.” 

Oliver hung up the phone, schooling his face into an expression of sadness. “Mark, I’m sorry, we’ll have to pick this up in a day or so. There’s been a death in the family.”


	114. "This is new"

_"This is new"_

Felicity gazed at Oliver as she stood in the doorway of the bathroom, watching him watch her. Given what she was wearing, it wasn’t surprising. 

Normally, she wasn’t much for lingerie. It felt like a lot of work for something that wouldn’t stay on for very long, and Oliver seemed to find her sexy and beautiful in anything and nothing. 

But they had been on the road four months now. Four months of getting to know everything there was to know about Oliver Queen, four months of letting him know so many of her secrets. And the intimacy and intensity of the feelings between them took her breath away. 

It made her want to try new things. Discover more about herself. Find out if she actually was a sexy lingerie woman. 

From the look on his face, from the low, raspy tone in which he had spoken, from the way his hands had wrapped around the sink when he spotted her … Oliver would like it a lot if she was a sexy lingerie woman. 

“It was a lot of work to get into this, you know,” she teased him, running her hands over the emerald-green corset. “Not to mention these,” she said, gesturing towards the fishnet stockings hooked to the corset’s built-in garters. 

“I bet,” Oliver said, straightening up and walking towards her slowly. “You’d be upset if I just tore it all off with my bare hands, right?”

She mock-pouted. “I would feel all my work was being under-appreciated, yes.” 

He nodded slowly, his eyes going so dark that they looked almost navy blue. “Okay. Then we’ll leave it on.” 

“Ahem, certain parts of me are covered that you’re going to want to be uncovered. To get anywhere, you know?”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Felicity realized just how much she had to learn about Oliver. Because she kept being surprised by just how he rose to a challenge. 

A slow, sexy smirk appeared on his face. “If you really think that, I’ve been doing a lot of things wrong.” 

Felicity quickly shook her head. “I don’t. I wasn’t thinking.” 

When he stepped towards her, his smirk turning into a hungry grin, Felicity almost took a step back. Because it was like he was the Big Bad Wolf and she was Little Red Riding Hood and he was going to eat her up. Metaphorically, but maybe literally, too?

“No, you were thinking, but soon you won’t be,” Oliver promised, his voice sending shivers down her spine and making her soak the coordinating emerald satin and black lace knickers. Even before his mouth took hers in a dark, ravaging kiss. 

And soon he was right. She wasn’t thinking at all.


	115. "So how many times have you seen Star Wars?"

_"So how many times have you seen Star Wars?"_

“Shhhhh,” Felicity muttered, munching on her popcorn. 

Oliver shifted in his seat. The little town they were staying in right now was full of traditions. And one of those was the all-day marathon of the original Star Wars trilogy on the Fourth of July. Felicity had lit up in the way he loved seeing when she had spotted the poster on the movie theater, and he had agreed to join her for the marathon.

But he had no idea how seriously Felicity took _Star Wars_. He had tried to make a few comments during _A New Hope_ , but she either didn’t respond at all or shot him a dirty look. Now, as Han and Luke were getting their medals in the ceremony at the end, Oliver had reached his limits.

“You must have seen this a million times, Felicity,” he said, leaning in towards her. 

Her head whipped around to face him, her lips pursed. “But never in a movie theater, Oliver! This is the first time, and I wanted–” 

She stopped talking and looked back at the screen, her lips pressed together. And Oliver felt like a douchebag.

Waiting until the credits started rolling, Oliver immediately reached for Felicity’s slippery, butter-covered hand. “Felicity.” 

“I know, I know, I’m being silly,” she said. 

“No, you’re not,” he countered. “I didn’t realize seeing it in the theater was so special for you. I’m sorry.” 

Felicity looked at him, her lips twisted in a half-smile, half-frown. “You don’t mind if we don’t talk?”

“I don’t mind,” he said, trying to squeeze her hand only for his fingers to slip. 

A small giggle burst from her lips and her mixed expression became all smile. “I forgot to get napkins.” 

He let go of her hand, standing up. “Allow me. You want anything else?”

With a winsome pout, she held the nearly-empty tub of popcorn out to him. “More popcorn? It’s a bottomless container. Lots of butter. Oh, and some Gummi Bears, too, please. I’m gonna sprinkle them on top.” 

His face must have shown his horror at that flavor combination, because she lifted one eyebrow. “I intend to work off all those calories. Tonight.” 

Oliver grinned widely. “On it.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek before hustling to the concessions stand before _The Empire Strikes Back_ started.


	116. Season 4 Oliver being totally 100% not interested when being hit on by an attractive woman. Bonus for smug!Felicity in there.

_Season 4 Oliver being totally 100% not interested when being hit on by an attractive woman. Bonus for smug!Felicity in there._

In the past, Oliver was no stranger to women hitting on him. It had happened pretty much constantly. Waitresses and baristas scrawling their numbers on napkins and coffee cups. Women flirting with him at bars and nightclubs, smiling at him even as he stumbled through the lobby of QC, drunk off his ass and shaking in his shoes at the prospect of another dressing-down from his father. And with all those opportunities, Oliver took advantage of a lot of them.

But that was in the past. Now, he had no interest in anyone else. Because he had Felicity and she was everything to him. 

“You want a scone.” 

Oliver looked at the woman behind the counter. “I’m sorry?” 

Her name tag read “Candi”–because of course a woman with that low-cut of a top would be named Candi. She leaned forward, clearly wanting him to eye her cleavage, as she slid a plate towards him. “You want a scone. They’re locally made and they’re delicious. This one is peanut butter-banana with a chocolate drizzle. We call it the Elvis.” 

She gestured at the plate, lifting the scone up enough for him to see the napkin with a string of numbers written on it. “On the house,” she cajoled with a wink.

He might be used to women hitting on him, but it had been a while since he had gotten a full-court press like this.

“Oh, I … I’m sorry,” he said, scrambling for words. “But my girlfriend is allergic to nuts.” 

“Awwww,” Candi cooed, batting her eyes at him. “That’s too bad. This scone is really good.” She broke off a piece and lifted it to her lips, keeping her eyes locked on his as she slowly ate it. 

This was getting ridiculous. 

“My girlfriend’s right over there,” Oliver said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “And she’s waiting for me to come back with her blueberry muffin. She likes those. Blueberry muffins.” 

Candi leaned back, licking the tips of her fingers. “If you’re sure …”

“Very,” he said in a rush. 

With a shrug of her shoulders, Candi turned back to the display case and, thankfully using tongs, lifted up a blueberry muffin and let it drop onto a plate with a plop. She set the plate down heavily and said, “Three ninety-five.” 

Nodding quickly, Oliver paid and lifted up the muffin, escaping towards his table with Felicity. He put on a smile as he walked over to her, feeling some of his embarrassment fade as he got closer to her. “Here you go, one blueberry muffin.” For good measure, he kissed Felicity’s cheek as he put the muffin in front of her. 

“Thank you,” she said with a smile, looking at him with dancing, sparkling eyes. 

Oliver took his seat, wondering what had Felicity so amused. He had just taken his first sip of coffee when Felicity casually broke off a piece of muffin and held it out towards him. “I hope the muffin is more to your taste than the scone.” 

Doing a double-take, he looked at her. Took in the amused smirk on her face, her relaxed, confident body language, the way her eyes cut over towards the counter, clearly showing Candi who was the better woman here, before meeting Oliver’s. 

He let out a quiet laugh and nodded before he leaned forward and ate the bit of muffin, making sure his lips made as much contact with her fingers as possible. Her smirk faded a little as her cheeks flushed and Oliver grinned. “Yes, I only have a taste for muffins now.”

End.


	117. "oh wait, I was wrong... I'm a rhino! Aw Felicity, don't be like that! Come back, haven't you ever wanted to pet an endangered species?but he really was excited to meet you!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say, callistawolf's mind is a weird place. Wonderful, too, but definitely weird. :-)

_After a long day Felicity comes home to find Oliver has put self-adhesive googly eyes just below his navel. He announces that he's an elephant but as he's getting turned on... "oh wait, I was wrong... I'm a rhino! Aw Felicity, don't be like that! Come back, haven't you ever wanted to pet an endangered species?but he really was excited to meet you!"_

Felicity blinked. And then she blinked again, before turning to look at her sister-in-law, who looked like she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to fall to the floor in laughter or run for the bathroom to toss her cookies. 

“I swear to God, Felicity, I have _no idea_ ,” Thea said out of the corner of her mouth. “Does Vicodin normally do this to him?”

“No!” Felicity hissed. “He’s flirty, yeah, but–but _this_? No. No no no no no. Oh, God, my husband is having the world’s weirdest reaction to a drug he’s taken hundreds–no, wait, he’s Oliver, he’s stubborn as a mule, he’s only taken Vicodin a dozen times in the five years I’ve known him.” 

“Okay, I think I should just leave,” Thea said, backing away, her eyes darting between Felicity and Oliver, being very careful to not look at her brother below the neck. 

Grimacing, Felicity nodded. “Coward. But yeah, I’ve got this.” 

“Feeeeeeeeelicity,” Oliver crooned. “C’mon, you wanna pet my rhino.” He gave her what he clearly thought was a seductive wink, but he looked more drunk. On top of being high as a kite.

“Oliver, what’s going on?” she asked, putting her hands on his shoulders and holding him in place–and keeping him from getting too close to her. Not until she had figured out what had made him act like a three-year-old. 

He pouted, reinforcing that comparison. “Tommy.” 

She blinked–man, she was giving her eyelids a workout–and then shook her head. “Tommy?” 

“Yeah, Tommy. He did this once, and the chick totally rocked his world.” 

“And so … you took your Vicodin, remembered Tommy doing this, and decided to try it with me?” Felicity asked, her words coming slowly as she tried to wrap her mind around this.

Oliver nodded, then looked down at his crotch and frowned. “No, no, be a rhino!” 

“Nope!” Felicity said firmly, pushing Oliver towards their room. “Nope, it’s time to be an elephant. I’m gonna put you in bed, you’re gonna sleep this off, and we’re never gonna talk about this ever again.” 

“Felicity–hey, Felicity,” Oliver argued as she led him towards bed, “y’know if you got into bed with me, I’d be the most rhino rhino ever.” 

“Never talking about this again! If you ever want to have sex with me again, Oliver Jonas Queen, you will forget this happened!”

End.


	118. Feverish Felicity

_Can you please write a feverish felicity (maybe throw in a pinch of denial of being sick during vacation in there) during the Olicity summer road trip? :)_

“I’m not sick.” 

Oliver quirked an eyebrow. “Felicity, you woke up covered in sweat.”

“You’re all hot! Like a personal space heater,” she said grumpily.

“And you were shivering at the same time,” Oliver replied, turning back to the bag of supplies he had returned with from the drugstore.

“There’s a draft in here,” Felicity pouted. 

Sitting down on the edge of the bed beside Felicity, he started pulling things from the plastic bag. “I got a thermometer, some flu medicine, a cold/hot pack–do you have any muscle aches? We can use it for that–and some Gatorade to get started, since you’re probably dehydrated. Once you’ve got the medicine in you, I’ll go out and get you some soup.” 

“I’m not sick, Oliver! We’re on vacation–no one gets sick on vacation.” 

Reaching out, Oliver slowly stroked her hair back and then cupped her cheek. “You’ve never gotten sick on vacation before?”

She shook her head, but still kept her cheek pressed against his hand. “No. Maybe partly because I’ve never really taken a vacation before.” Her smile was soft and lopsided. “Not one like this.” 

“Well, maybe we’re not on vacation anymore,” he replied softly. “We’re just … living our lives. Together. And in life, you get sick sometimes.” 

“Yeah,” Felicity said, nodding. “But I’m not sick.”

“You’re sick,” Oliver countered, kissing her forehead. “C’mon, take the medicine and then I’ll get you some soup.” 

Felicity pouted again, making him wish he could kiss her, but he would bet that even though she kept protesting that she wasn’t sick, she wouldn’t let him kiss her on the lips. So he kissed her forehead again and ripped open the box of flu medicine.

“Okay, maybe I’m a bit under the weather,” Felicity said. “If you’re getting me soup, could you get chicken noodle soup?”

“Whatever you want,” Oliver answered, twisting off the cap of the Gatorade. “Hey, why is chicken noodle soup ‘Jewish penicillin’ and not matzo ball soup?”

“That wasn’t covered in Hebrew school.” Felicity held her hand out for the pills and took them, swallowing them down with Gatorade and making a face. “Next time, fruit punch-flavored Gatorade, please?”

Oliver nodded and stood up. “I’ll get some with the soup. Lay down and rest, I’ll be right back.” 

“Hey, aren’t you going to take some?” Felicity picked up the box of medicine and shook it at him.

“Why?” he asked, frowning. “I’m not sick.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oliver, we spend all our time around each other. If I’m sick, which I only might be, you’re gonna get sick, too.”

Chuckling, he took the medicine and set it aside, easing Felicity back on the bed. “Felicity, I don’t get sick.” 

“You’re gonna get sick,” she argued. 

“I’m telling you, I’m not gonna–” Oliver stopped mid-sentence when he sneezed. Felicity looked at him, her lips pursed. 

“I don’t get sick.” But in response to her unspoken question, Oliver took the box and pulled out two pills, throwing them back. “I’m not going to get sick.”

She gave him a smile. “Now you won’t. Saltines, not oyster crackers, with the soup, please.”


	119. Felicity and Oliver reminiscing about the first time they saw each other on one of their later anniversaries

_Felicity and Oliver reminiscing about the first time they saw each other on one of their later anniversaries_

Oliver stretched out on his side, gazing at Felicity. Her face was scrubbed clean, the soft light from the full moon letting him see every familiar line. And a few new ones. Because after twelve years together and ten years of marriage, neither of them were as young as they once were. They each had a few new scars, a few new laugh lines. 

But when he looked at her, every time was like the first time. Seeing her turn around and pull that red pen from between her pink lips. Seeing her blue eyes widen because they both knew it wasn’t every day the heir to the company walked into her cubicle. 

Felicity gave him a small, happy smile. “You’re staring. Again.” 

Shrugging a shoulder, he grinned at her. “It’s our wedding anniversary. Today is one of the days that I am allowed to be as sappy and romantic as I want. You promised.” 

“You say that like a) there was any way I could stop you from being sappy and romantic and b) I don’t like when you’re sappy and romantic,” Felicity argued, her smile growing wider. “I love it, you know that.” Her hand reached out and ran through his hair, making him close his eyes and sigh softly. 

“I know,” Oliver said, opening his eyes and gazing at her. He reached out to slide his hand over her bare skin, his fingers spread wide as he pulled her in against him. 

“I was just thinking about the day we met,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to her temple. 

Felicity let out a soft hum. “Funny. Me, too.”

“Best day of my life,” he whispered against her skin. “The day that everything changed.” 

Her fingers rubbed his bicep, her engagement and wedding rings catching the moonlight, and she looked up at him. His eyebrow went up when he saw how she was nibbling on her lip. 

“Felicity?” he asked, pulling back a little. “What is it?”

XXX

Looking up at Oliver, even after so many years together, she still felt that moment. That little bubble of shock and surprise and attraction, like she had that first day. When she was still wearing panda flats and working to move on from Cooper, when she was trying to make a name for herself while wondering just who Felicity Smoak was. And then she had seen Oliver, and something in her just … woke up. 

He had helped her become the woman she was meant to be. And it had taken so long to make him realize that. For him to understand that as important as she was to him, he was equally important to her. 

Ten years ago today, she had walked down an aisle that was way too long, and it had been so hard not to run to him in her big white dress, because she was so ready to be married to him. To be his and for him to be hers, forever. And they had been so good together. There had been ups and downs, fights and make-up sex, business trips and vacations, and so much love. 

There was one thing missing, though. One thing that they had talked about, but as the years went on, they had come to think it wouldn’t happen for them. There was something about their timing–there was a joke in there that one day might not be bittersweet–that had worked against that one thing. 

But not anymore.

Reaching out, she cupped his face, her thumb rubbing against his jaw. “I’m pregnant.” 

Oliver’s eyes went wide. “What?” he whispered.

She smiled, feeling her eyes fill with tears. “I’m pregnant,” she repeated. “Happy anniversary. It’s the last one with just us.” 

“Oh my God–I love you–Felicity!” 

His arms were around her, holding her so tightly, and she was pretty sure he was pressing his face against her neck to hide his own tears. She had no problem with letting a few happy tears leak out and run down her cheeks. 

Because she was so happy. She had everything she could want, and now she was going to have more. And so was Oliver.

Although she would never be able to top this anniversary gift, she thought with a soft smile as she burrowed in against him. 

To think, this had all started when he walked into her cubicle with a shot-up laptop and a crappy lie.


	120. "Oh, gross. Remind me again why I agreed to this?"

_"Oh, gross. Remind me again why I agreed to this?"_

Oliver grinned and looked at Felicity. “Because John asked us to babysit, and you’re helpless against his eyes. Especially when he’s holding Sara.”

“Those big huge arms, holding this pretty little girl,” Felicity pouted, before leaning down to blow a raspberry on Sara’s stomach. Sara Diggle, all of sixteen months, let out a squeal and wiggled on the changing table. 

Felicity straightened up quickly, her nose wrinkled. “And wow, that is a stinky diaper.” 

“I know,” Oliver said, kissing Felicity’s cheek and then gathering the supplies. “Let’s do this.” 

Shaking her head, Felicity unsnapped Sara’s pajamas. “Is this from Thea? All this babysitting knowledge?” 

“I was ten,” Oliver recalled, helping Felicity. “And Thea’s nanny was really nice. She was Raisa’s sister, actually.” 

“Do you miss her? Raisa, I mean,” Felicity asked, undoing the diaper and wincing before taking Sara’s heels and hoisting her up in the air. 

“Yeah,” Oliver admitted, quickly cleaning up Sara and nodding to Felicity to pull away the dirty diaper as he took Sara’s heels in his hand. “I’ve thought about calling her …” 

With the same quickness that let her fingers fly over the keyboard, Felicity yanked the diaper away and rolled it up into a ball, putting it in the trash can. “You should! I bet she would love to hear from you.”

“Maybe,” Oliver said, smiling down at Sara, who was starting to wiggle as best she could with her feet being held up in the air. 

“Just a minute, Sara,” he said, picking up a fresh diaper and getting into place. A few movements and the diaper was fastened around her and Oliver scooped her up, holding her against his chest. “All better?” he asked her quietly, brushing a light kiss over her head. 

Sara babbled, batting her hand against his chest, and Oliver smiled and looked over at Felicity, ready to joke about Sara taking after her aunt, only for the words to die. 

Because Felicity was looking at him, with a softness in her eyes that made his stomach tighten. It made him remember the night that Sara was born. When he had stepped into the door of Lyla’s hospital room, seeing Felicity stand by the bed and look down at the baby girl, and … and he had wanted that for himself. 

And he had wanted it with Felicity. At that moment, he knew, even though he had to give her up to keep her safe, that he would never stop loving her. There would never be anyone else for him.

The softness in Felicity’s eyes made him think that maybe … maybe she wanted the same thing as he did. And that made everything that happened last year feel … a little less of a waste of a year. If it meant that they were here now, and maybe thinking along the same lines about their futures.

Now he knew what he was going to talk to Felicity about after they put Sara down. Once he had kissed her breathless, that is.


	121. "This isn't working!"

_"This isn't working!"_

“Yes, it is–you just have to be patient.” 

“Or you could believe me when I say this isn’t working, Oliver.” 

“Felicity, trust me. There’s a rhythm, and until you get it, you’re going to feel like it isn’t working.”

“Easy for you to say–you’re good as using your body.”

“You’re pretty good at using your body, too. Just ask my pants over the last three years.”

“Why are you anthropomorphizing your pants? That’s weird.”

“Fe-li-ci-ty.”

“I can’t get this! I’m telling you, it’s not working and you should just let me watch you.” 

“That’s no fun, though.”

“Oh, don’t pout like that …”

“Just … try, okay? One more time. And if you still hate it, we’ll do something else.” 

“ … Fine.”

“That’s my girl. Okay, now, hold the balls softly … draw your hand back … turn your hips … and just let go.”

“I did it! Oh my God, I did it!”

“I told you that you could do it.” 

“Oh, don’t be smug. I stand by my belief that I’m not cut out for most physical activity. And getting the ball in the smallest hole is tough!”

“Trust me, my skeeball prowess ranks very low on the list of things I’m smug about.”

“Oh, yeah? And what’s at the top of that list, then?”

“The sounds you make when I use my hips.”

“Oliver, you cannot get me turned on in the middle of an arcade.”

“Watch me.”


	122. Oliver and Felicity played tic-tac-toe.

_Oliver and Felicity played tic-tac-toe._

When she was frustrated, Felicity got the most adorable wrinkle between her eyes. She had it right now when she looked down at the napkin on the slightly-sticky diner table. 

“How do you do it?!?” she asked, annoyance infecting every word. “How do you _always_ win at tic-tac-toe?”

Oliver shrugged, grinning at her. “I’m good at strategy.”

“So am I! I mean, when it comes to strategy games, I’m the best! I designed a Linux emulator for Zork when I was eighteen, and that was no picnic, let me tell you. I taught myself to play chess and used to hustle nice old men at the park in Vegas!”

Reaching over, she grabbed another napkin. “We’re going again. And this time, you’re going to explain what you’re doing.”

Hiding his grin in his cup of coffee, Oliver waved over their waitress. “We’re going to be here a bit longer. Could we get our coffees topped off, and what pie do you have?”

“Apple, cherry, coconut cream, and there’s a slice of peach left,” their waitress, a motherly-looking woman named Flo, said as she filled their mugs. 

“Apple a la mode, please,” Felicity said, carefully drawing a tic-tac-toe board on her napkin. 

“I’ll take the peach–thank you, Flo,” Oliver said with a smile. 

She nodded. “You got it.” Flo headed back to the kitchen, letting Oliver look at his girlfriend, at the love of his life, at his Felicity. 

Felicity looked up and met his eyes. “C’mon, Oliver, let’s go!”

And here he thought Thea–the reason for his tic-tac-toe prowess–had been demanding. But because it was Felicity, and he would do whatever she asked, Oliver leaned forward and began showing Felicity how he always won at tic-tac-toe.


	123. TV marathon night, Olicity style.

_TV marathon night, Olicity style._

Oliver blinked as he took in the slightly-wobbly table that Felicity had moved to the foot of their bed. The table was practically groaning–a worrying prospect–under all the food. There was a large Hawaiian pizza. There were cartons of Chinese food. There was a large bag of potato chips, a giant carton of Goldfish crackers, and two bags of chocolate. And an entire box of microwave popcorn, to say nothing of the bottles of soda and the large coffee cups. 

“Felicity? This is just a TV marathon night, right? We’re not staying here for a month to watch every single episode of that show you keep telling me we should watch?”

“That is Doctor Who, and it would not take us a month to watch Doctor Who,” Felicity said, bustling around their hotel room as she got into her ‘comfy clothes’. “The last I saw, it would be fifteen days to watch all of it. Of course, when you factor in sleeping and bathing–which are both vital if you’re gonna binge watch a show–it probably would be close to a month. But no, tonight we are going to start your education on critically praised viewer favorites that were cut down too soon. Plus, you’ll like this show–they speak Mandarin! I’ve always wondered if the curses they used were actually what they said they were.” 

Blinking, he looked at her. That was a babble closer to how she had sounded when they had first met. Back when her ponytails were low and curly, when she wore panda bear flats, when she let herself get carried away and swept him right along with her. 

So that told him that this mattered to Felicity. She was excited and hopeful and eager, and she wanted him to be a part of it. That sharing this show with him, that spending this time together, mattered to her. 

Watching a TV show together for hours and hours wasn’t very appealing to him. But getting to do with her, spending those hours with her? That was very appealing to him. 

Although there was no way they could eat all this food. He really needed to find a way to convince Felicity to change her diet up a little. 

With a smile, he patted the bed beside him. “So what’s the name of this show?”

Felicity smiled brightly at him. “Firefly. It’s so good!”

He wrapped his arm around her as she sat beside him, explaining the plot and characters. By the end of the third episode, he was starting to get hooked. By the end of episode five, he had helped her eat half the pizza and some of the Chinese food. The next three episodes–or ‘eps’, as nerds called them, according to Felicity–saw them munch on the other snacks. And to his surprise, during the last episode, he ate a whole bag of popcorn, on the edge of his seat. 

And when the credits rolled at the end, he turned to Felicity and said, “That can’t be it!”


	124. Moira Queen perspective on established domestic Olicity.

_Moira Queen perspective on established domestic Olicity._

It’s been a long, strange trip for Moira Dearden Queen.

And if Robert was here now, he would be amused that she had just quoted a Grateful Dead song. Because Robert had loved all those 1970s bands: Led Zeppelin, AC/DC, the Dead. They spoke to something in his soul–something that Moira herself had never possessed and never understood. 

Something she had seen in Oliver, too. 

Oliver had always been so much like Robert. In appearance, in temperament. Or so she thought, until she learned to really look at her son and see him. As his own person. Even before he had disappeared for five years, she had sensed the strength and heart her son had–qualities in which he had already eclipsed his father. 

She liked to think he got those qualities from her. And she wondered if he would ever be able to harness those abilities. Her beautiful boy. 

When he had returned, all of Moira’s hopes and dreams hadn’t felt like they were in vain. But it had been a rude awakening, seeing Oliver either act like the same playboy he had always been, or like a cold, remote stranger. 

Discovering he was the Hood–or, the Arrow, Moira corrected herself–had, in some ways, been a relief. Because she knew that was how Oliver was using his innate characteristics with the new skills that he had learned. Becoming a man that she was so proud of. 

A man she was here to see get married, against all odds. Not so much what he had faced with the woman who had been his wife for an hour, but because … she had died. 

Moira Queen had been dead. And then, she wasn’t, after Malcolm Merlyn’s plot to control both her children had appeared on the verge of failure and he had taken his Hail Mary pass: her resurrection. 

There were good days and bad. Today was a good one, for which Moira was incredibly grateful. It let her watch Oliver with Felicity.

When she had met Felicity Smoak, Moira would have never guessed the young blonde would have captured her son’s heart. Of course, Felicity was beautiful, in her own way. Yet she clearly had a brain, a career of her own, an independence that she couldn’t see Oliver responding to. And Ms. Smoak would probably not care for the kind of man Oliver had used to be. 

She had admired Ms. Smoak’s courage of conviction, even when it was inconvenient. And it had given her the first glimpse of the truth. That perhaps Moira was wrong. That while it was clear Ms. Smoak harbored a crush on Oliver, Oliver certainly relied on the young woman, in a way unlike all his other relationships.

It had made Moira pay attention, up until the day she had died. And when she … came back, she had started watching again. It was after Oliver and Felicity had begun their relationship–a relationship that had nearly never happened, which made them cherish what they had even more. 

And it had been blindingly obvious that they were in love. Felicity had matured into her promise to become the intelligent, compassionate, strong woman she had dreamed her son might find and love someday. And Oliver … her beautiful boy was hers no longer. He belonged to Felicity. He smiled now, not unlike he did when he was a little boy. He did what he thought was right. He put others first and made hard choices. 

He had become a man, and Moira knew it was thanks, in large part, to one Felicity Megan Smoak. 

“Although I’m going to be Felicity Queen socially–a phrase I never thought I’d say for multiple reasons–and just between me and you, I … I kind of want to be Felicity Queen alone, but there’s just something inside me that makes me think about all those hours I spent studying and it makes me feel like I was treating all that work as unimportant. And Oliver says I should do whatever makes me happy, but the thing is, neither option makes me fully happy. So I just don’t know what to do,” Felicity had rambled last week to Moira, over lunch. 

“I suppose Smoak-Queen is rather … odd-sounding,” Moira had stated, smiling a little at Felicity’s eager agreement.

“You’ll chart your own course, with Oliver by your side,” she had concluded.

Felicity had smiled softly, her face suffused with love and happiness. “Yes, I will. We will.” 

It was simply the latest in a long line of moments that told Moira Queen to not waste her second chance. 

“Mom? Are you all right?” 

Oliver’s voice was gentle, soft, worried. She smiled warmly at him. 

“I’m fine. I’m looking forward to our dance, although I admit, I feel wrong to take you away from Felicity.” 

Her son looked over at his wife, an utterly besotted expression on his face, and Moira smiled. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to be here today, Oliver.”

Even more than that, Moira was so happy that this day had come, in a way that was beyond all her imagining. Because her son was truly and deeply in love, with a woman who loved him back to the same depth. 

It was all she had wanted for her son. 

Oliver smiled back at her, his hand warm and firm on her shoulder. “I’m even happier than you are, Mom. And I can’t wait for our dance.” 

Moira chuckled softly as Oliver bent down to kiss her cheek. “You are such a charmer. Now go and spend some time with Felicity before you have to do your duty to your mother.” 

“It’s no duty, Mom,” Oliver said, the sincerity ringing in his voice. 

At that moment, Felicity swept over, a vision in her gown and veil. “Moira, I hope you’re feeling okay? Oliver is so excited about dancing with you.” 

“You two are ridiculous,” Moira said, amused by how in sync they were. Amused, and slightly envious. “Shoo, the both of you, and greet your guests. I’m fine.” 

“You’re sure? You don’t need anything?” 

Arching an eyebrow, Moira pinned her son with her best mom look. “I said shoo.” 

Felicity bit her lower lip, and Oliver grinned even as he looked suitably chastised. “You heard my mother,” he said, turning to Felicity and taking her hand. “We’ve got guests to greet.” 

They started walking away, Felicity laughing softly. She said something to Oliver, which made him laugh, too. 

Moira smiled as she watched them. Watched them laugh together, watched how they continued to hold hands. Watched as they began a new chapter in their lives together. 

It wasn’t a chapter she had ever thought would be written. Certainly not with the cast of characters, Moira reflected as her eyes connected with John Diggle’s, and then flicked around the room at the friends her son had made in his work to save Starling City. (She just couldn’t get used to calling it Star City.)

But it was a beautiful chapter nonetheless. And as long as her son was happy, with the woman who made him that way … Moira was happy, too.


	125. Person A keeps getting Person B’s mail in their post

_Person A keeps getting Person B’s mail in their post_

Everything sucked about his new apartment. There were cockroaches the size of poodles in his bathroom, to say the wiring was shoddy was an understatement, and the walls were so thin that it didn’t matter that they were plaster and not glass–he could hear everything his neighbors were doing.

So it was kind of stupid, Oliver admitted, to be most annoyed about the mixed-up mail situation. 

But he was. He was apartment C, but for some reason, he kept getting the mail for apartment D in his mailbox. And whoever Felicity Smoak was, she was a passive-aggressive Type A personality. Because the first time her mail had shown up in his mailbox, he had just propped it up on top the row of mailboxes.

The next day, there had been a typed sign posted.

_**If mail is misdelivered, how about being a nice guy and pushing it under the addressee’s door instead of leaving the mail on top of the mailboxes, where anyone could steal it? :-)** _

The smiley face was the most annoying part, he had thought grumpily.

But he could at least see the point of the sign-maker, who had probably been this Felicity Smoak. So Oliver found himself sticking her letters under the sizable gap between her door and the floor, pretty much every other day. He had been living here two months and had seen no sign of her, so he had to wonder if she even existed. 

And then, on a rainy night in mid-October, he walked into the lobby of his building and stopped short when he caught sight of the beautiful woman banging her tiny fist against the mailboxes. 

He wasn’t sure how he could tell she was beautiful: she had an oversized trench coat wrapped around herself, her blonde hair was falling out of her ponytail, and her glasses were fogged up so he couldn’t see what color her eyes were. But … he just knew that she was beautiful. 

Beautiful, and doing her best to beat up the mailboxes. 

“Hey, hey, this place is a piece of crap, but the mailboxes kind of work,” he said, taking a step forward.

“That–is a–matter of–opinion!” the mystery woman said, punctuating her words with a few more bangs. Then, with a sigh, she lowered her fist and turned to look at him, only for her mouth to hang open as she took him in. 

“Oh,” she whispered, her cheeks turning pink. 

Although he was used to women reacting to him strangely–because Oliver knew he was a good-looking guy, even if he didn’t have the Queen family billions anymore–having someone apparently be struck dumb by his appearance was rather unusual. Still, he couldn’t help grinning at her. 

“Hey. Anything I can help you with?”

She pushed up her glasses, her hand fluttering nervously about her face. “I–I was just trying to get my mailbox open. Most days, I can’t get it open. And neither can the mailman, since he keeps putting my mail in my neighbor’s box. Which I want to complain about, since it’s a federal offense to knowingly misdeliver mail, but then the Post Office would complain to the landlord, and I’m _pretty_ sure this building is not legally zoned for apartments, but where else can you find a place to live, for this cheap, in this town? So I’ve kept my mouth shut, which is _so_ not like me … as you are discovering,” the woman said, her embarrassment apparently halting the stream of words that had issued from her lips.

Oliver blinked as he sorted through that rush of information. And when he had, he was aware of three things:

1) This was Felicity Smoak.

2) There was a good reason her mail kept ending up in his mailbox.

3) She was cute as hell.

With those three things, Oliver knew he didn’t want this to be the last time they talked. So he held his hand out to her, which she shook with a firm yet soft hand.

“Oliver Queen, your mailman. Your mail keeps ending up in my mailbox.” 

At his words, Felicity’s face went a very pretty pink. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry for that note,” she said, gesturing towards the tattered piece of paper still tacked up over the mailboxes. “I always think writing things down is easier than talking, but then I realize how bad I am at writing, too.” 

“I don’t think you’re bad at all,” Oliver said, leaning in towards her a little and keeping a grip on her hand. “I started putting your mail under your door, after all. And it’s how we met, kind of.” 

One of her eyebrows went up. “We’re meeting because my mail ends up in your box, not because of my sign.” 

He liked that even though she was still blushing, she hadn’t giggled or flirted back with him. No, she held her ground and called him on his shit. Oliver felt a smile grow on his face. 

“Maybe I could take you out for coffee and we could talk about it more.”

At that, her eyes went wide behind her glasses–blue, her eyes were blue, and a beautiful shade, too, Oliver noticed. “What?” she squeaked.

“Let’s go get some coffee,” he said, giving her hand a gentle tug. 

Felicity’s lips pressed together and she gave him a long look. Even though it was a little disconcerting, even though it made him feel like he was going to be found wanting, Oliver made himself meet her gaze. So he saw when her eyes softened into friendliness, he saw when her lips curved up in a frankly devastating smile. “Okay,” she said quietly. 

“Okay,” Oliver said, smiling back broadly. 

From then on, signs became their thing. The morning after he first told her he loved her, he left a Post-it note on her mirror with the words. When she asked him to move with her to a new apartment, she did it with a sign.

And when he asked her to marry him, she gave him her response in a sign. It had only two words on it: _**yes**_ and a smiley face.


	126. How about an AU based off the movie 'You've got mail?'

_How about an AU based off the movie 'You've got mail?'_

With a deep breath, Felicity sat down with her latte and her book. After nearly a month of near-constant emailing, today she was finally going to meet the man she had been sending all those emails to. 

Living in a place like Starling City, it was easy to feel lonely. It was so gray and rainy, so closed-off to outsiders. She had been here a year and her acquaintances hadn’t become friends. And forget dating.

That was why, after a night of drinking wine all by herself, she had signed up for the email matchmaking service. Because why not? Maybe she could make a friend if she wasn’t worrying about acting cool, but if she acted like herself. And even though she would barely break a sweat hacking the service to find out the true identity of her match, for some reason … Felicity had held back.

Maybe it was because the man whose emails she had received. The man who was self-deprecating, serious, yet with a dry sense of humor. He didn’t seem very practiced in expressing himself through words, yet five words from him had more meaning than a thousand words from anyone else. And he just seemed … different. From any other man she had ever met. 

So when he had suggested that they should meet, Felicity had, after a few moments of hesitation, agreed. Because she just trusted him, without knowing anything about him.

Wasn’t that weird? 

But here she was, waiting in her favorite coffee shop, a copy of _The Little Prince_ so that Mystery Man would know she was the one. 

Not the one-one, not like the woman he was destined to meet. Just–just the woman he had been emailing for a month. 

Great. Now she was rambling in her head.

Felicity took a big gulp of her latte and looked out the window, trying to manage her nerves as she waited. 

Only for her eyes to go wide as she saw Oliver Queen walk past the window. And the billionaire castaway, only back in Starling City for two months, _was stepping into the coffee shop_.

XXX

Using all the skills he had learned in the past five years, Oliver Queen kept his face stoic as he approached the coffee shop. But that was just on the surface. Underneath, his emotions were churning. As it was, he had to shove his hands into the pockets of his jacket to hide his twitching fingers. 

Because he was nervous about meeting a woman. 

Back in the old days, he had never been nervous around a woman. Any woman, not even Laurel … who was happy and falling for his best friend. 

But he wasn’t meeting just any woman. This woman … she was different. He had no idea what she looked like, for one thing. Which was another way he wasn’t acting like his old self. Because Ollie Queen would have never been satisfied with emailing a woman, getting to know her without any personal details, with no idea of what she looked like. 

Not that the man he was now was satisfied with that. But it had only occurred to him, after weeks of emailing this woman constantly, of being unable to hold back a smile when he saw he had an email from her … he wanted to meet her. Even though he had only signed up for the email service due to Thea’s prodding, he–he wanted to know who she was. 

And today, he would find out. 

Oliver was nearly there. He pulled open the door and stepped inside, his eyes immediately observing the coffee shop’s inhabitants, categorizing them into high, medium, or minor threats, while searching for a woman holding a copy of _The Little Prince_ , when–

His eyes rested on a woman. A woman who wasn’t a target or a threat. Just … a woman.

A beautiful, intriguing woman. With blonde hair and big blue eyes and bright pink lips. A woman who seemed to be holding her breath as she looked at him. 

A woman holding a copy of _The Little Prince_.


	127. I would love a Diggle/Oliver scene.

_I would love a Diggle/Oliver scene._

Oliver watched as Felicity stomped out of the temporary, makeshift headquarters for the team Diggle has been leading for the last five months. Although he supposed he shouldn’t call it either of those adjectives. When Oliver left, he had seriously thought he wouldn’t be coming back to Starling City. 

(He can’t get used to calling it Star City. Or maybe it’s because they put Ray Palmer’s photo on the sign and not any of the 503 people who died during the Undertaking.)

But he left, and Diggle was left in charge of the team, and this was where they set up shop. So even though Oliver can see several problems with the set-up, he certainly shouldn’t mention any of them to Diggle.

Although that means things are very quiet now. Because Felicity has told them that they have to stay here until they’ve figured out how to work together in the field. “You both nearly died because you didn’t have each other’s backs out there!” she had shouted, tears in her voice. 

And Oliver knew that she was worried not just about his safety. 

So he’s ready to do this. For Felicity’s sake, and for Diggle’s, and for his own. Because he has no right to feel this way, but … but he _misses_ John. Misses his guidance, misses his friendship. 

He misses his brother. 

The silence stretched out, a bit awkward, but not terribly so. Oliver glanced over at Diggle and managed a smile. “I’m surprised Felicity didn’t lock us in here.”

That prompted a quiet chuckle from Diggle. “I think she trusts us more than that. Or thinks we’ll need to go get a drink.” 

Oliver straightened up a bit, wincing slightly. “God, that sounds good. I can’t remember the last time I had a beer.” 

Diggle lifts one eyebrow, and Oliver said, “Felicity doesn’t like beer. It’s just … wine.” 

His former bodyguard–former friend?–chuckled again, this one stronger and richer. “Welcome to married life. Not that you’re married.” 

And just like that, Oliver is back in the kitchen of _their_ house, feeling his fingers tremble ever-so-slightly as he slipped a diamond ring into one of the souffles. It was so tempting to tell Diggle that. To confess how close he came to nearly getting it all.

But if there’s one thing that hasn’t changed, Oliver Queen has crappy timing. And he knows the timing is all wrong right now. 

Instead, he stood up and looked at Diggle. “Would you like to get that beer? So we can talk about how we can work together.” 

Just like always, Diggle levels him with one of those penetrating looks. The type that always made Oliver consider if magic really does exist, but it’s like Digg can read his mind with those looks. 

But Diggle just nods and stands up. “Okay, sure.” 

Hopefully, this will be the first beer of many in their new relationship. One that can be built from the ashes of their old ones. Different, but maybe stronger than ever before. 

If only because someday, Oliver wants to have Diggle return the favor and be his best man. Because there was no one else who should be there when he married Felicity.

“So have you ever thought about rearranging the layout down here to minimize the blind spots?” 

Oliver closed his eyes, wondering why he had said anything. But Diggle just snorted. 

“Was wondering when you were going to bring that up.”

“You knew and you didn’t do anything?” Oliver asked, feeling aghast. 

Diggle rolled his eyes. “I’ll explain over the beer.”


	128. Mini golf date

_Mini golf date_

Felicity giggled as Oliver alternated glaring at his putter and at the windmill. She lowered her voice and spoke like the narrator of a nature documentary. “Here we see the fearsome vigilante confront his greatest foe … miniature golf.” 

Now he was glaring at her. “No one could get the ball through this,” he said grumpily, gesturing to the small opening that was regularly blocked by the lazy revolution of the windmill’s blades.

“Sure you can,” Felicity said, easing him out of the way. She stepped back and eyed the windmill, her mind working the angles and trajectories and frequencies, and then, almost unconsciously, her body was moving and her putter made contact with the ball. 

She rose from her crouch and smiled with delight as the ball neatly shot past the windmill and through the opening, before turning to look at Oliver. 

Who had an even grumpier expression on his face. 

Bursting into laughter, Felicity dropped her putter and threw her arms around his neck. She tugged him down for a smacking kiss against his lips. “You do realize how silly you’re being, right?” 

“Yes,” he sound, pouting. “But I should be able to do this.” 

“Or maybe you should just accept that mini golf isn’t your game. And that it’s okay to not be good at something, even if you enjoy it.” Felicity gently rubbed the back of his neck. 

Oliver looked at her for a moment, his eyes narrowed in thought, before his whole face relaxed and his arms wrapped around her waist. “Also, it’s very sexy when your girlfriend is all cocky and confident.” 

“I hadn’t considered that, but yeah, you’d probably like that, too,” she told him with a grin. 

He threw his head back and laughed, and Felicity laughed, too, and then he was kissing her, right in the middle of the Lakeland Mini Golf. 

And the rest of the game was much more fun, although it took them double the time as a normal round of mini golf. Because Oliver instituted a “kiss after every shot” rule, and that was one rule she wasn’t going to break. 

Even if it did draw a lot of attention to themselves.


	129. I would love to see your take on the idea of Oliver or Felicity as a professional massage therapist and the other is getting their very first massage

_I would love to see your take on the idea of Oliver or Felicity as a professional massage therapist and the other is getting their very first massage_

Taking a deep breath, Felicity looked around her room and nodded. Everything was set up perfectly. Her massage table was ready, the candles were already burning and sending the soft scent of vanilla wafting through the space and mingling with the soft classical music she had playing. Debussy–one of her favorite composers, and one that she thought was perfectly suited to giving massages. No flutes or bells for her, no thank you.

She just had to hope her client agreed. If he didn’t, then this would be a really bad start to her career as a massage therapist. Especially since her client apparently had never received a massage before. She didn’t want him to have a bad experience, either. 

There was a quiet knock and Felicity squared her shoulders and put on her professional smile. She stepped over to the door and pulled it open, then clutched at the doorknob. Because … holy hell. 

_This_ was her client? This tall, muscled, Greek god?

Her hands weren’t nearly strong to massage him!

Swallowing, Felicity reinforced her professional smile. “Oliver?”

He nodded, holding himself tensely. “Yes, I’m Oliver.” 

“I’m Felicity. Come in and we’ll get started.” 

Giving herself a mental fist pump for not letting any of the _many_ innuendos in her head escape her mouth, Felicity stepped back and allowed Oliver into the room. “Slip your robe off–you can hang it on the hook on the back of the door–and climb onto the table. Once you’re comfortable, just let me know.”

To give him privacy, as a mark of respect, since respect was a critical part of the interaction between massage therapist and client–Felicity turned to look over Oliver’s file one more time. 

Oliver Queen. Billionaire who had recently returned from five years stranded on a deserted island. Suffering from lingering physical trauma, due to said five years on a deserted island. Massage therapy had been recommended during his initial treatment at Starling General Hospital, but it had been two months and now, here he was, climbing onto her massage table. 

There was a lot of squeaking happening. God, she hoped the table didn’t collapse under the weight of all that muscle. 

“Ready.” 

“Okay!” she said cheerfully, turning around and freezing. 

Wow, that was a nice back. A really, really nice back. And his shoulders weren’t too shabby, either. The whole package was really impressive and she felt another stab of worry. Because … just reading his file had been enough to inspire empathy and concern. But now, seeming this man, scarred and flawed, stretched out on her table and seeking comfort from her … it scared her a little how much she wanted to make all of this better. 

Why hadn’t she learned anything about this in massage school?

Licking her lips, Felicity stepped to the top of the table. “I’m going to begin. If I hit any sore spots or cause you any discomfort, please let me know. I tend to chatter, but if you’d like me to stay quiet just say the word. Is there anything you’d like me to know or any questions that you have?”

“I’m fine.” 

Hmm. A man of few words. Okay, then. 

Felicity turned and pumped a few drops of massage oil into the palm of her hand. She rubbed it into her hands, then pumped again until there was a pool in her cupped hand. And then she carefully began applying the oil to Oliver’s skin, rubbing it in as she worked on his shoulders. 

They felt even better than they looked. Or, at least they would, if they weren’t as tense as boulders from all the stress and tension he was carrying. 

“Oooh, you’re hard.” 

_And there was the innuendo_ , she thought, her cheeks flushing. But Oliver didn’t seem to notice–at least he didn’t react. 

“I meant, you’re just … needing some relief,” Felicity continued, trying to make this better. “And that’s why you’re here today, right? To feel better? That’s good. So many people refuse to get help when they need it. Which I get, after all. It’s hard to ask for help. To admit you need it, that you have a problem. And that’s scary. It’s scary for me.” 

She moved to get more oil and began working on on his upper arms. “I was going to MIT. I loved it there. But then … something happened, and I couldn’t stay and I didn’t know what I was going to do. I had to go back home to Vegas and ask my mom for help. It was really, really hard, especially since I spent my whole life trying to get out of Vegas, to not end up in a service industry like my mom. Not because I thought it was beneath me, but because I know how hard working as a cocktail waitress or a manicurist or a massage therapist is. But it’s funny, I realized that doing this–giving massages? It really is therapy. And I didn’t have to go into the kind of debt I was facing with MIT–because even full scholarships don’t cover things like food and housing, and Boston is a really expensive city to live in–to help people. I’m helping people in a real way, and that’s why I’m here.”

Maybe it was her imagination, but she thought Oliver was listening to her. And the tension in his body was definitely lessening. Felicity smiled and kept talking, keeping up the stream-of-consciousness musings going as she finished his arms and started on his back. Where, as she suspected, she wasn’t sure her hands were strong enough to really give him any relief. But he didn’t say anything, so she just kept working and doing her best. 

She was careful when she reached his lower back, cautious of the patch of burned skin there. So she dug her thumbs into his sides, along his waist and right above his hips, and was rewarded when Oliver let out a soft half-grunt, half-groan. Felicity smiled softly. “Better?” 

“Better,” Oliver said, his voice low and sleepy. 

And Felicity Smoak felt a spark of joy. Because Oliver Queen felt better because of her. And that made her keep going. 

End.


	130. more of the massage therapist one-shot that you did for me a while back, pretty please.

_more of the massage therapist one-shot that you did for me a while back, pretty please._

Just like last week, Oliver hesitated in the hallway outside. It was his second appointment for massage therapy, and while last week his hesitation was born of not knowing what to expect, this week he did know what he was getting himself in for. 

So he hesitated even longer until slowly, he reached out and opened the door. 

At the sound of the door opening, Ms. Smoak–or Felicity, as she had told him to call her–spun around, so quickly that the end of her ponytail smacked against her jaw. Her cheeks flushed, going nearly as pink as her lips, before she smiled brightly. “Hi, Oliver.” 

He nodded. “Hello.” 

There was something about her … she was just so bright and shining. She lit up this dim, tiny little room, made him want to squint when he looked at her. It was a strange feeling. An unsettling one. 

And that was before she started touching him. 

Swallowing, he shifted his feet. “How … how are you?”

“I’m good! Well, I’d be better if it was next year and Game of Thrones was already back, but then, everyone deserves time off and that show must be so intense to work on! I couldn’t imagine being an actor and having to do a scene where you have to kill someone, or torture them, or …” 

Felicity’s voice trailed off, her face going from pink to red, and then she pressed her lips together tightly and turned away from him. “You–you can get on the table, if you … if you still want me to be your therapist.” 

“Why?” he asked, feeling confused. 

Her shoulders looked tense. “Because–because I’ve read your file, and I’ve seen your scars, and I just–I must have ripped off a bandaid and poured lemon juice all over the wounds that are on the inside, that haven’t scarred over, and–”

“Felicity.” 

His pronouncement of her name hit her like cold water; she immediately stopped speaking and straightens up, like she was bracing herself. 

“It’s fine. You didn’t hurt my feelings,” he reassured her. 

She slowly turned her head and looked at him. “I didn’t?” she asked, sounding so much like Thea had when she was young and nervous that Oliver felt something unknot inside his chest. 

“No,” he said, feeling a small smile flicker across his face. 

Her answering smile was so big and wide, he felt momentarily breathless. “Okay,” she said, her sparkle back. “Then take your clothes off.” She closed her eyes and said, “I mean, you can slip your robe off and get comfortable on the table.”

Felicity turned back to fiddle with something on the table in front of her, giving him privacy. But Oliver paused, gazing at her for a long moment.

For some reason, he almost wanted to flirt with her. But not like he used to in the old days. Not like five years ago, when he would flirt with any woman, when he was bored or lonely or annoyed with Laurel. No, he wanted to flirt with Felicity … and Felicity only. 

Which was dangerously stupid. Reckless. There was no room for flirtation in his new life. 

Tamping down the urge, he turned slightly and slid off the robe he was wearing. Dressed in just his boxer briefs, he climbed up onto the massage table, moving carefully to minimize the squeaking. 

And then he was stretched out on his stomach, his face resting in the towel-covered cradle at the top of the table and a blanket covering him from the waist down. And he felt the first fluttering of nerves. 

Because Felicity’s hands might be small and smooth, but she had a surprising amount of strength. Able to stroke and rub and knead his tight muscles, easing away tension he wasn’t aware of, soothing away the last traces of old injuries. 

There were a few soft noises, the rustling of cloth, the soft tread of small feet, and the squelching of a pump. And then she made contact with him, starting by gently rubbing her thumbs along his spine at the base of his skull, and he wanted to moan at how she was already flirting with the pleasure/pain line. And then she dug in her thumbs, and he had to bite his lip.

“Don’t tense up, Oliver,” she said softly, her voice coming from just above him. He opened his eyes, which he hadn’t even realized he had foolishly closed, and saw her feet. She was standing right in front of him and he made himself keep looking at her aqua-painted toenails, because if he lifted his head his eyes would be at the exact same level as her–

She applied even more pressure and he couldn’t help the soft moan he let out. 

“Good,” she said softly, kindly, tenderly. 

And she was right–it was good. But it was also bad. Because what had seemed reckless in the same way as peeing on a cop car was, now it felt really dangerous. More dangerous than anything else he had faced and survived.

Because he was questioning if he could survive the feelings that this slip of a woman was sparking inside him.


	131. Oliver is surprised to find that he is more turned on by Felicity in her silly novelty-print pajamas than in sexy lingerie. And Felicity catches on, because she's a smartypants.

_Oliver is surprised to find that he is more turned on by Felicity in her silly novelty-print pajamas than in sexy lingerie. And Felicity catches on, because she's a smartypants._

Oliver knows enough about Felicity to know that she would be eager to break out the sexy lingerie, it wouldn’t be something he would see every night. No, silky little nightgowns and lacy bra and panty sets would be special occasions, and he was okay with that. Because honestly, it was about getting Felicity naked, so what did it matter what kind of clothing he was taking off her?

But to his surprise … when Felicity wore the sexy stuff, it didn’t hit him nearly as hard as her normal nighttime attire. The yoga pants and his t-shirt. The flannel pajama pants covered in green electrical circuits or multicolored matryoshka dolls, paired with matching tank tops. The fluffy socks because her feet got cold, the ratty MIT hoodie that she had bought online the day she received her acceptance letter. 

It meant that this was real life. Real life was pajamas and eating ice cream straight from the carton and staying on the couch all night. And after eight years of a life that felt more like something out of a nightmare or a horror movie, Oliver Queen found that he had been longing for a real life more than he had even known.

And he had it with Felicity. The love of his life, the woman that he was already considering spending the rest of his life with. Well, no–he wasn’t considering it. He knew that was what he was wanted. What he was considering was how to ask Felicity to be part of the rest of his life. Those eighty-six years. 

But that could wait. For now, he would cuddle with her on the couch, and watch as she pulled her hands inside the sleeves of her hoodie to protect her from the cold leeching off her container of ice cream, and act like he wasn’t excited about tonight’s Iron Man movie marathon.

They both knew, though, that he loved it. That he loved all of it. 

What he loved most, though, was knowing that at the end of the night, he would strip off Felicity’s clothes and experience skin that was softer than any silk or satin.


	132. Can you write something that involves pre-island Oliver/Tommy/Moria/Laurel/Robert seeing current Olicity? I'm a sucker for third party POVs of changed Oliver.

_Can you write something that involves pre-island Oliver/Tommy/Moria/Laurel/Robert seeing current Olicity? I'm a sucker for third party POVs of changed Oliver._

The worst part of what’s happened to him, Tommy Merlyn thinks, aren’t the times when he’s in one of those states. When he’s been pumped up on League incense and sent out to kill, using the two years of training inflicted upon him after his trip into the Lazarus Pit.

No, the worst part is when he’s just himself. Just Tommy. Because then he wonders. About the people who think he’s dead. Oliver, Thea … Laurel. And when that happens, he gets angry. Unpredictable. 

It makes him wonder why the League has sent him to Starling City. But he’s here, and he’s managed to shake off the conditioning enough to feel like himself, so he’s damned if he’s not gonna check up on his loved ones.

First Thea, watching her walk down the sidewalk in the Glades, talking with some tall, skinny guy–not the kid she had dated before, someone new–taking in the smirk in her eyes, the slight edge to her smile. He can tell that her time in the Pit has affected her, but not like him, thank God. 

He wouldn’t have wished that on his sister. 

Now it’s time to check on Ollie. Although even when he was alive, the nickname didn’t really fit his friend anymore. Habit, more than anything else, made Tommy use it. But he was starting to break the habit before he died. 

And when he catches sight of his best friend, Tommy realizes that he’s definitely not Ollie now. 

Like Thea, Oliver is walking with a woman. A blonde with glasses, hot in a librarian way, at least at first glance. But then Tommy looks again, and he realizes that she’s not really that librarian-like. She’s more than that. 

Or maybe he’s thinking that because of how Oliver is looking at her. 

Oliver’s even more massive now than he used to be. He’s wearing a different suit now, one that leaves his arms bare, one that looks more like armor than before. He looks like a frigging superhero.

But the woman who barely comes up to his shoulder has such a big personality, she commands your attention. She’s certainly got Oliver’s; he’s looking at the woman like the sun rises to shine on her, like he can’t believe how lucky he is to have her walking with him.

Tommy’s never seen Oliver like this, at all. Never. 

It’s all so intimate, he gets up to leave from his spot on a rooftop when they start kissing. But he does watch long enough to see how the woman grips Oliver’s arms, how she leans into him. 

Whatever Oliver feels for that woman, the feeling is definitely mutual. 

Taking a deep breath, Tommy starts moving from building to building. Time for the last person on his list. He just hopes Laurel is as good as Oliver and Thea were. But he’s not sure, since he knows about Sara.


	133. AU: Oliver keeps breaking his computer on purpose so he has an excuse to see and talk to Felicity.

_AU: Oliver keeps breaking his computer on purpose so he has an excuse to see and talk to Felicity._

It all started after an unfortunate accident involving a brunette with very curvy hips, a latte, and his computer. Considering he had been working on a presentation for the board, Oliver though he was very calm when he called IT and demanded they send someone up to fix his computer– _ **now**_.

And when he saw who IT had sent up, Oliver forgot all about the brunette. And realized that at some point, the reason brunettes had gotten so boring, the reason he was so tired of partying, was because his tastes had changed. Now he liked blondes–smart, funny, babbling blondes. Now he liked talking to a woman, hearing her express herself about anything, whether it was about cheeseburgers or computers. 

Not that he could get Felicity to actually date him. She kept turning him down whenever he asked her–which was every time he encountered her. So he stepped up his pursuit, by dropping by her cubicle with a bag from Big Belly–which she had told him was her favorite burger place–or paying for her cone of mint chocolate chip when they were both in line at the ice cream cart outside QC. But that hadn’t worked, either. 

So Oliver knew what he had to do. 

This time, there was no brunette. He chose green tea with nothing added instead of a latte. And he called Felicity, telling her frantically that he needed her help.

And then he sat back and waited, the cup of tea poised over his laptop. 

When Felicity dashed in, she skidded to a stop on her panda flats–God, those shoes were ridiculous and adorable–and stared at him, blinking. “What–what are you doing? Coffee wasn’t enough?!?” 

She approached him slowly. “Oliver, put down the coffee cup.”

“It’s not coffee–it’s green tea. You told me how the milk in the latte was the worst the last time, so I went with green tea this time. And I haven’t poured it on the computer … yet.” 

Oliver held her eyes, looking right at her. Waiting to see if she was going to call his bluff or if she would fold. 

But for once, Felicity looked confused. “Oliver, what are you doing?”

“If this is the only way I can get you to see me, so be it,” Oliver said. “I’ll break every computer I get, just so I can spend ten minutes with you.” 

Her fingers trembled a bit as she pushed up her glasses. “This–this is just the thrill of the chase,” she said, her voice wavering. “As soon as I say yes, you’ll get bored and want to move on.” 

Swallowing, he lowered the cup of tea. “You really think that?” 

It was easy to see the thoughts that were going through her mind, because they were reflected on her face. Worry about losing her job if she spoke honestly, concern about the innocent computer, and then a determination straightened her spine and lifted her chin.

“Yes, I do,” she said firmly. But almost immediately, her face softened and her voice grew gentle. “I like spending time with you–I mean, what girl wouldn’t? With the way you look and you’re really generous, and you’re fun to be around … but I want something real.” 

“Oh,” he said quietly. Feeling crushed in a way he hadn’t been prepared for. He had thought threatening his computer would do the trick. That she would be flattered by the lengths he was willing to go to, just to see her. But it hadn’t worked. And now that she had made it clear she was most definitely not interested … he just wanted to be alone. 

Somehow, he managed a weak smile and nodded to her. “Never mind, then. I’ll see you around, Felicity.” 

She chewed on her lower lip and took a tiny step forward. “Oliver–”

“No, it’s fine–you probably have a lot more important work to do,” he said, knowing he should put on his typical playboy smile, but not finding it within himself to act with his normal practiced charm. “Thank you for coming up, Felicity.” 

He looked away, not wanting to see the pity in her eyes–not used to being pitied–and busied himself shuffling the papers on his desk. He kept his eyes down until he heard her walk away. 

And that was that, he thought. Until he came in the next day, and his computer wasn’t working. It kept giving him weird error messages: whenever he tried to do anything, it kept displaying a picture of a coffee cup. Or directions to Jitters. Or a proposal for renovating the offices of the IT department. 

Because Oliver had never been the brightest guy around, it took him an hour to figure out what had happened

Felicity had broken his computer. By telling him she wanted to get coffee with him. And when he realized that was what was going on, Oliver had torn out of QC like his ass was on fire. 

Oliver was panting, his face red, when he dashed into Jitters. Feeling his heart beat in the most strange pattern ever. But it was all worth it, when he saw Felicity sitting at a table just inside the coffee shop. When she gave him a shy smile and a little wave. And unconsciously, he waved back to her, even though he was only ten feet away from her, and then his feet was moving towards her and he was smiling–really, honestly _smiling_ like he couldn’t remember ever doing before–and he had the feeling that everything had just changed for him.

Which turned out to be exactly right. And for the rest of his life, Oliver would always be grateful for that latte. Because that was how he met the love of his life.


	134. ‘last night was supposed to be a one night stand but we drunkenly got each other’s names tattooed on each other’s ass cheeks so now its kind of hard to forget you’ au

_‘last night was supposed to be a one night stand but we drunkenly got each other’s names tattooed on each other’s ass cheeks so now its kind of hard to forget you’ au_

(Changed this prompt a little, but hopefully you’ll still enjoy what I’ve come up with! Set this in s2.)

When Felicity opened her eyes, she groaned softly. Her vision was blurry and her eyes were gritty, thanks to sleeping with her contacts in. But her eyes could still sense the light streaming into the room she was in, and the bright sunshine only made her pounding head hurt worse. So she shut her eyes and buried her face in her smooth … firm … warm pillow?

Jerking back, she blinked and rubbed her eyes, trying to make sense of what she was barely seeing. Because … why was Oliver–a _shirtless_ Oliver–in her bed? 

Wait.

Cool air hit her breasts–her _bare_ breasts–and she yanked the sheet up, just as Oliver suddenly stirred, jack-knifing to a sitting position and looking at her with wide eyes. 

“Felicity?”

“I … I think so,” she said, her mind whirling as she tried to figure out what was happening. Trying to figure out any reason, other than the obvious one, for why she was naked, in bed, with her boss/partner. 

Although, really, wouldn’t it just be her luck, to sleep with Oliver and not remember it? 

Oliver moved cautiously, his eyes flicking around, going from her to various parts of her room. Like he was torn between studying the room and observing her. 

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Oliver asked her, his voice sounding somewhat choked and strangled. 

Felicity frowned as she tried to remember. “Um … we were in the alley. You were walking me to my car.” 

“That’s what I remember, too,” Oliver said, his shoulders slumping. He ran a hand through his hair, then winced slightly and touched his neck. “What …?”

Shifting while keeping the sheet pressed against her front, Felicity tried to see what was going on. “Oliver, you’ve got a bruise,” she said, reaching out towards the purplish blotch on his neck, just under his jaw, but before her fingers made contact with his skin, she yanked her hand back. She touched her own neck, finding a bruise in the same location on herself.

“We must have been drugged,” Oliver said, echoing what Felicity was thinking. “Something that …” 

His eyes ran over her, clearly aware that she was naked under her sheet, and Felicity felt her cheeks go red. She shifted, the weight of Oliver’s eyes very heavy and making parts of her body react, but then she yelped. “Ouch!” she said, her hand moving towards the left side of her ass. 

“Felicity?” Oliver asked, his hands flashing out to grip her shoulders. “What’s wrong?” 

The moment he touched her, Felicity felt a new tingle go through her. It wasn’t unusual for her to feel something when Oliver touched her, but this–this was new. Different.

“I–I felt something–when I moved–I’m tender …” she stuttered out, trapped in his blue gaze. 

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Will you–will you let me see?” 

“What?! No!” she said, pushing herself back from him and then softly groaning as she landed on the sore spot again. “Damn it,” she breathed out, moving into a kneeling position. 

Keeping the sheet in place, Felicity turned to look over her shoulder, trying to see her ass. Looking around, she caught sight of the mirror over her dresser and she angled her body to see what was going on. 

And felt her mouth drop open as she saw, in dark ink, six letters following on the swell of her left cheek.

_**OLIVER** _

Refusing to think about it, her head whipped around to look at Oliver. “Turn around,” she ordered him. When he stared at her, she waved her hand at him in the universal gesture for someone to turn. “Turn around!”

Oliver hesitated, but then, with slow movements, he turned to show her his left side. 

To show her just what she feared she would see on his ass.

_**FELICITY** _

“Oh my God, what were we given?!?” Felicity groaned, horrified and shocked and embarrassed and, underneath all of that, crushingly disappointed. 

Because this was everything she wanted and nothing she was going to get. 

“Maybe it was a truth serum.” 

“What?” Felicity asked, Oliver’s soft voice disrupting her thoughts. Her eyes locked on his, from where he was looking at her over his shoulder. 

She watched–her eyes _not at all_ lingering on how his tongue darted out to wet his lips–as he spoke. “Maybe it was a truth serum. Making us willing to say everything we’ve been thinking.”

“What?” she repeated, this time shocked and amazed. Especially when Oliver turned and moved closer to her.

“I said I couldn’t be with someone I could really care about,” Oliver said softly, his eyes moving over her face like he was trying to memorize her. A small smile was on his face and his eyes were very bright. Almost sparkling. “That wasn’t the truth. I could. And I want to keep being proven wrong.” 

“Oliver,” she breathed out, feeling her heart beat harder. Unconsciously, her hand fluttered out and touched his shoulder, before gripping it. “Really?”

He nodded, leaning in towards her. “Really,” he said, his voice low and soft and warm and certain. 

It was the certainty in his voice–in his eyes–that made Felicity close the distance between them and kiss him. Kiss him like she had wanted for months, and felt him kiss her back like she was everything.

There was so much to do–finding out what exactly had happened to them, making sure there would be no ill effects of their night of missing memories, figuring out just how she had been persuaded to get a tattoo given her fear of needles–but all of that could wait. 

She was too busy kissing Oliver.


	135. Oliver and felicity at their first gala as a couple

_Oliver and felicity at their first gala as a couple_

It was silly for him to be nervous, Oliver Queen admitted as he adjusted the cuffs of his shirt. After all, he had grown up attending fancy parties and galas and formal events. It had been drilled into him at a young age how to act, what to say, who to impress and who to avoid.

Yet he was nervous for tonight. Because this was the first time he would be appearing with Felicity at one of these parties as a couple. And he knew all eyes would be on Felicity, because she was the CEO of Palmer Technologies, acknowledged as the woman who was reinvigorating the company, making a real difference in Starling–Star–City, while being praised for her style. 

And he … was a disgraced former billionaire who had been pinned with multiple murder charges as the Arrow. A man who had lost his family’s company, who was currently unemployed and was a long-shot candidate for the city’s mayor. 

Everyone was going to be wondering what Felicity was doing with him. 

Which was ridiculous, he knew. Because the last thing he should be worrying about was what other people thought about his relationship with Felicity. None of those people mattered. But … but he knew that some people were going to be thinking exactly like him. Because he was always a screw-up, and everyone was bound to be watching him tonight, waiting for him to screw this up, too. Waiting for Felicity to wise up and realize that there were better men than Oliver Queen. 

Oliver slid his hand into the pocket of his tuxedo jacket, touching the box he had been carrying with him ever since their last night in their house. Ever since his proposal had been interrupted. He had considered asking Felicity a hundred other times. But none of them had seemed right. And the longer he waited, the more he was starting to reconsider. Not because his feelings had changed–but because Felicity was discovering just how special she was, getting recognized for her brilliance. 

“Oliver?”

Felicity’s voice sounded hesitant, unsure. He turned around quickly, concerned about what was making her sound like that, only for his mind to go blank.

Because she was so absolutely beautiful.

Of course, she was always beautiful. But seeing her like this, in a formfitting dress, the color of the night sky and complete with sparkling, constellation-like designs, her hair in soft curls and long silver earrings hanging brushing against her neck … she took his breath away.

“Felicity,” he whispered, feeling awed that for some reason, he was here, seeing her like this. Seeing her first, before anyone else. That he was the one she chose to be here. 

“You don’t think this dress is too busy? Too … sparkly?” she asked as he closed the distance between them. Her head tilted back to look at him, her fingers fidgeting in front of her. “I want to look like a grown-up, but I love this dress–”

“You look beautiful,” he breathed out, wrapping his hands around hers and stilling her fidgeting. 

Her face immediately smoothed out, a hopeful smile appearing on her face. “Yeah?”

Oliver nodded quickly. “You take my breath away,” he told her honestly. 

“And here that was what I was going to say,” Felicity replied, her eyes flicking from his head to his toes. She sighed happily. “This is like the start of one of my fantasies.” 

His worries began to drift away, just being with Felicity. Smiling, Oliver used his hands to pull Felicity’s arms around his waist. “Oh, yeah?”

“Are you kidding?” Felicity asked, pressing against him and smiling up at him. “You are devastating in a tux, Mr. Queen. When I was having to go to those galas with you as your EA, I always had to give myself a very stern talking-to before, reminding myself that this was real life and not my dreams, so I wouldn’t do something embarrassing.”

Gazing down at her, Oliver pulled her even closer. “You make my dreams into real life.” 

Felicity’s mouth fell open, a blush staining her cheeks and making its way down her neck. “Oliver, you–you can’t say things like that to me–now we’re gonna be late …”

“What?” He pulled his arm up to check his watch. “We’ve got ten minutes before we have to leave–”

“Oliver, ten minutes is not nearly enough time for what I want to do to you right now.”

He felt his lips turn up in a smile, even as he ducked his head a little from a strange burst of shyness. Because … because they both had insecurities–their relationship was still growing and developing–they each had things to learn about each other and themselves. 

But as long as they were together, all of that hard work felt easy. And that was why he was going to propose tonight, Oliver resolved. He wanted Felicity to know that whenever she felt unsure, he would always have her back. 

“It wouldn’t be the first time Oliver Queen showed up to a party late …” he told her as he lightly kissed along her jaw towards her ear.

“Oliver, I really hate that third person–ooooooh, Oliver …”


	136. angsty/fighting fic (with a happy ending of course)

_angsty/fighting fic (with a happy ending of course)_

In retrospect, he probably shouldn’t have insulted Felicity’s shoes.

“… if I wasn’t surrounded by such overgrown _boys_ masquerading as _men_ , I wouldn’t have to wear high heels. Or, I’m sorry, the ‘cages that are deforming my feet and make me walk like an old Chinese lady’!” 

“ _Felicity_!” he hissed, slapping a hand over her mouth. Which he would definitely pay for later. “I know you’re pissed, but you have to be quiet right now.”

Her eyes glared at him, her shoulders stiff, but Oliver just quirked an eyebrow, waiting for her to calm down enough for him to remove his hand. 

“What the hell is going on?” Felicity whispered to him once his hand was gone. “Why did you drag me off?”

“I didn’t want us to have a fight in public,” he began to explain, only for Felicity to frown and interrupt him.

“Why? Because now that you’re running for mayor, I can’t call you on your stupid, patronizing, frat boy bull shit?” Felicity snapped. “Because I’m not going to be some little woman, Oliver–I thought you knew that about me!”

Oliver ran his hands over his face and clasped them behind his neck. “I do! I was just making a joke–a bad joke, because I’m not funny and charming like you.” 

Felicity snorted. “Like you’re not charming as all get out. You are, you know that, Oliver.”

“I swear, I don’t want you to be anyone other than you are,” he said, stepping closer to her. “I’m sorry if I seemed like I was making a joke at your expense–I just said the wrong thing.” 

He watched as she listened to him, as she weighed his words while chewing a little on her lower lip. “Okay … but I just don’t get it. You normally stick up for me when people make those kinds of assumptions about me. Why didn’t you tonight? Was it because it was Mr. Bowen and he’s given you a lot of money for your campaign?”

This was it. He knew it. He could feel it, in the way the universe seemed to hold its breath. Putting everything on hold so he could finally, _finally_ do this.

“No,” he said, his voice feeling deeper and shakier than normal. “It was because he was asking me about when I was going to marry you, and you came up before I could answer and I …”

Felicity’s eyes widened, her mouth forming a perfect O. Then she blinked. “Well–well, that … that’s an impertinent question. And I can’t believe I just said ‘impertinent’, like I’m some nineteenth-century schoolmarm. But, but who goes around asking when someone is going to get married?” 

And then her face went pale when Oliver knelt before her. “Oliver–Oliver, what are you doing? Is it your bad knee?”

Oliver couldn’t help grinning at her, even in the midst of his nerves. “No, it’s not my knee,” he said, reaching out to take her hand. “If you hadn’t walked up, I was going to tell Mr. Bowen I was working on it. That I’ve been working on it for weeks, but something keeps getting in the way. But now … it’s just you and me, and I don’t want to wait any longer.”

Reaching into his pocket, Oliver drew out the diamond ring that he hadn’t let out of his sight ever since he had bought it. He held it up, gazing at Felicity. “Felicity, will you marry me?”

He had expected her to keep staring at him. To maybe babble. But instead, she just jerked her head once. “Yes.” 

“Yes?” he asked, feeling his heart pound. 

“Yes, of course, yes, Oliver!” 

Everything happened at once: standing up and sliding the ring on her finger, Felicity’s arms wrapping around his neck and kissing him eagerly. But all he could think of was that Felicity had said yes. 

They were going to get married.


	137. Oliver and Felicity + the sentence "....WHAT??!!"

_Oliver and Felicity + the sentence "....WHAT??!!"_

“I … I thought we could live with Thea?”

Oh, damn him. Damn Oliver Queen, with the shy smile and the soft eyes and the hope infusing every line of his body. He was pulling out the big guns when it was completely, totally unnecessary!

Because of course she was willing to live in the loft, so Oliver could be close to his sister and watch out for her. And while it would be opening herself up for a ton of embarrassment, with all the things she could blurt out to Thea about Oliver, things that a sister should never know about her brother … Felicity liked the idea of spending more time with Thea. She was so important to Oliver, and Felicity liked Thea. Liked her attitude and courage, her sense of humor and her ability to rock a crop top. 

But why did Oliver think he had to be so cautious in asking her?

“I know it’ll be an adjustment,” Oliver said, while Felicity tried to figure out where his head was at. “After being alone, having the house to ourselves … but Thea needs me. And I think she needs you, too. She likes you a lot, so having you around, giving her a strong, amazing woman to talk to–it’s going to help her so much.” Oliver paused, and if possible, his eyes got even more puppy dog-like. “I would really appreciate it. And show you how much I did.”

_Oh_. 

Felicity pursed her lips. “You’re right, it would be a change for us … but Thea does need her big brother.” 

Oliver wrapped his arms around her, drawing her in against him. Right where she loved being. “And you. She needs you. Just like me.” He pressed a kiss against her jaw, his lips then moving towards her neck, towards that spot that was directly connected to her center, and Felicity shivered. 

“Um–I … I think we can make it work …” she breathed out as he kissed her neck. 

There was no way she would have put herself before Thea in Oliver’s eyes. So she was fine with living in the loft. But if Oliver was going to make it up to her … well, she was only human.


	138. Felicity was kidnapped by her dad in 4x09. She comes back at a time of your choosing and Oliver reacts.

_Felicity was kidnapped by her dad in 4x09. She comes back at a time of your choosing and Oliver reacts._

It had been twelve days, eighteen hours, and five minutes, approximately. He had gone through days that felt like lifetimes before, but none of his experiences–none of the torture and heartbreak and agony–had prepared him for this. For losing Felicity. For having her torn from his arms by Damian Darhk. 

By her father.

The minute she was gone, everything inside Oliver Queen was dedicated towards finding Felicity. Bringing her home, having her back by his side, taking the diamond ring from his pocket and sliding it on her finger … 

But of course, she was Felicity. Of course she would find a way to break free on her own and just show up, in the middle of their base. 

“Um … hi.”

Her voice was shaky, full of barely-restrained emotion. Oliver whirled around, his heart in his throat. “Felicity,” he croaked, taking her in. 

There was a bruise on her temple and a long, thin cut across half her neck. The dress she had worn to his announcement party was dirty and wrinkled and her hair was lank. Dark circles turned the skin under her eyes the color of a plum. 

And she was beautiful and alive and _here_. 

Somehow, he jerkily walked towards her, his eyes locked on her. Watching her for any reaction, for any sign he should back off. But all he saw was how carefully she was holding on to her control, how hard she was trying to keep herself together.

Felicity was so strong. But she could rest now. Because he would not let anyone hurt her. 

When he lightly touched her shoulder, her whole body trembled. With a cry, she flung herself into his arms, holding on to him so tightly. And his arms wrapped around her, burying his face in her neck, feeling the shudders and hearing her cry, knowing his own tears were rolling down his face and dripping onto her skin. 

Felicity was home.


	139. "Oliver, why does my mother keep looking at you expectantly?"

_"Oliver, why does my mother keep looking at you expectantly?"_

“What?” he asked, looking around the ballroom of the Starling Grand, the site of tonight’s charity gala. 

Donna Smoak was standing across the room, talking with … Captain Lance? He gave his head a shake, then noticed how Felicity’s mother kept glancing over at them. And … was that a wink?

Turning back to Felicity, Oliver almost laughed. Because like mother, like daughter. Felicity looked just as expectant as Donna did, only for a much different reason. His girlfriend just wanted to know if he had any idea why her mother was acting strangely; his girlfriend’s mother wanted to know when he was going to make Felicity his fiancee. 

It had seemed simple: tell Donna he was going to propose–and this time, he wouldn’t let anything stop him from asking Felicity–and … not exactly ask for her permission, but maybe get her blessing? Because he didn’t know much about what Felicity had told her mother about him, about them. And he knew Donna was important to Felicity and vice versa, and they were still rebuilding their relationship and perhaps Donna would feel like she was losing Felicity all over again …

But to his surprise, Donna had been thrilled. Overjoyed. She had hugged him before pulling him down to kiss his cheek, leaving a bright pink outline of her lips on his skin. “My baby’s gonna get married to the love of her life!” 

Donna’s words had made him smile widely, because … because it just sounded good. It felt good, knowing that he was the love of Felicity’s life. 

The only problem was, Donna was clearly eager for him to pop the question. So was he, but he wasn’t going to do it in public like this. No, he wanted to have a measure of privacy when he asked Felicity. 

But … but he wanted to ask her. Now. He didn’t want to have to come up with some reason for Donna’s behavior. He just wanted to ask Felicity to marry him. 

So he grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the ballroom, feeling his heart rate increase. He wasn’t nervous, though–he was excited. 

Because in five minutes, he would have the answer to a question that had been in his mind and his heart since he met Felicity. A question he might not have always been conscious of, but a question that had been there nevertheless. 

A question he was finally going to ask, right now.


	140. Oliver walking in on Thea and Felicity doing shots together. (Bonus points for grumpy grump face and awkward innuendos).

_Oliver walking in on Thea and Felicity doing shots together. (Bonus points for grumpy grump face and awkward innuendos)._

As soon as he opened the door of the loft, he can hear giggles. Feminine laughter, full of delight and joy. 

And it warmed his heart, because he knew the laughter is coming from two women. The two women he loved most. 

“You should have seen his face! He looked so crushed! Just because she liked me better!”

The smile immediately vanished from his face at Thea’s words. Because he knew what story Thea must be telling Felicity, and this … this is not good. He had told Felicity a lot about his past during their five months away from Starling, stories about his behavior which, in retrospect, he’s embarrassed by. Even ashamed. 

But this is … this was something he never wanted Felicity to know about. 

If he had known that his secret desire for Felicity and Thea to become friends–to become something like sisters, before they are actually sisters–would result in this, he would have … well, no, he wouldn’t change anything. But maybe he could have prepared for this day better. Or at all.

Rounding the corner, he took in what he sees before him, his frown deepening. Felicity and Thea were on the couch, curled up beside each other with their shoes off. There was some show about women picking wedding dresses playing on the TV but muted, and there were two bottles of wine and two glasses on the table in front of them. 

“What is going on?” 

His sister and his girlfriend’s heads swiveled towards him, and in unison, they burst into laughter. Oliver folded his arms over his chest–partly hoping his arms might distract Felicity, since a tipsy/drunk Felicity was very open to suggestions about sex–and waited out their laughter. 

“I say again, what is going on?”

“Hey, Ollie,” Thea said with a wide, mischievous grin. “I was just sharing some stories with Felicity. Including that one about you and my babysitter …”

Felicity let out another giggle. “Oh, Oliver. Offering to take her for a drive in your father’s Porsche, when you didn’t have a license?”

“And–and she said–’but there’s no back seat for Thea’s car seat’!” Thea burst out, throwing her head back and laughing.

“You were barely four–you can’t remember this–” Oliver protested, his arms shifting into more of a self-hug. 

“Oh, I do,” Thea said, pushing herself up from the couch and swaying slightly on her feet. “I’m okay!” she said quickly, holding her hands up to shake off both his and Felicity’s offer of assistance. “But I think I’m going to go crash. So no loud sex tonight, okay, guys?” 

Oliver looked down, trying to keep his face from going red, as Thea departed the room. Then he glanced at Felicity, who had her arm resting on the back of the sofa, her hand propping up her head and a soft, warm smile on her face. 

“You flirted with Thea’s babysitter.”

“I did,” Oliver admitted, slowly walking over to sit down beside her. “It’s strange, but … that embarrasses me more than a lot of my other examples of bad behavior.” 

“Maybe because it was a time you let yourself be vulnerable and you got hurt, instead of doing everything you could to _not_ be vulnerable.”

Blinking, Oliver stared at Felicity. “That … that’s it. That’s exactly it.” 

Felicity’s smile grew even softer before she leaned forward and kissed him lightly. “I saw what you were doing with your arms,” she said against his lips. “Take me to bed and make love to me very quietly.”

Giving his head a small shake as he huffed out a laugh, Oliver scooped up Felicity in his arms. “Hell, no. We’re gonna be loud.”

A small crease appeared in Felicity’s forehead. “But I thought with Thea here …”

“After telling you that story, I think it’s time to turn the embarrassment tables on her, don’t you?” Oliver asked as he carried Felicity towards their bedroom.


	141. Oliver teaching Felicity how to cook, please?

_Oliver teaching Felicity how to cook, please?_

“I don’t understand–what do you mean you don’t measure?”

“I mean I don’t measure. It’s not an exact science, Felicity.”

“This is not fair. You just throw things in the pan and do some stirring and it all … works. It’s always delicious.”

“Always?”

“There is no need to fish for compliments, Mr. Queen. Why do you think I’ve been going jogging every morning, feeling my body revolt against me with every step? It’s not because I like exercise, even with how nice the view is when I’m running behind you.”

“Are you saying I’m making you fat–I mean, gain weight? Feel like you’ve gained weight. Not fat, never fat.” 

“You can stop backpedaling, Oliver. I know you didn’t mean it like that. But yes, all this amazing food you keep feeding me, after years of Big Belly and dumplings and sushi–”

“What I make is a lot healthier than fast food. I bet your cholesterol is lower than it has been in years.”

“Yeah, I probably have very sexy arteries. Oh, God, is it supposed to be smoking?!?”

“Um, yeah, no. I’ll just take this over here …”

“Why can’t I get this?”

“Maybe cooking just isn’t for you. Maybe … maybe you could try baking? I mean, that’s all science, measuring and doing things in a certain order.”

“How do you know that?”

“It was what Raisa always said. That she liked baking when her mind was unsettled, because she liked putting everything in order. But that cooking was for when she was relaxed.” 

“So … maybe that’s why you’re such a good cook. You’re very relaxed.” 

“I am. Thanks to a certain blonde IT genius who loves me.” 

“I do love you. A lot. Do you love me, even though I can’t cook?” 

“Let me show you how much I do.”


	142. Max Fuller hitting on Felicity, then REALLY hitting on her after finding out Oliver is her boyfriend. Protective Oliver comes along

_Max Fuller hitting on Felicity, then REALLY hitting on her after finding out Oliver is her boyfriend. Protective Oliver comes along_

Felicity had lost count of how many reopening parties there had been at Verdant, but this one was pretty nice. At least this time, the party was to celebrate something good, something normal. Thea had found a new space for the club, in a pocket of the Glades that had resisted improvement. And just like Oliver when he first opened the club, Thea hoped that she would be able to make changes for the better in the Glades.

So she had gotten dressed up in the closest thing she had to clubwear, Oliver had put on a suit, and they had come to the new-and-improved Verdant. 

Oliver had immediately slipped into his old ways, charming everyone in the crowd and mingling like a pro. Felicity had joined in, but after a while she had needed a break. And a glass of wine. 

She had just taken a sip when she felt fingers running lightly down her arm. For a moment, she smiled, thinking that Oliver had joined her, but then something registered.

No callouses. 

It wasn’t Oliver touching her. 

Turning around, her eyes ran assessingly over the man in front of her. He reminded her of Willem Dafoe, in that flexible face, barely-hidden malevolence kind of way. Especially with how his eyes kept running over her body. 

“You are the hottest woman here,” he said, leaning in to yell in her ear. Which was really unnecessary, since the music wasn’t that loud. He was just trying to get close to her. 

Instead of backing up, Felicity reached her hand up and lightly pushed against his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m not interested.”

“Let me buy you a drink, see if I can change your mind with a little conversation,” he persisted. 

“Nothing you can say will change my mind,” Felicity said, going to pick up her glass of wine. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go find my boyfriend.” She put extra emphasis on the last two words, hoping that might dissuade him. 

But instead, he started following her. “And who is your boyfriend, lovely lady?”

It was all she could do not to full-on shudder at the patronizing creep. And she knew she could handle him, but maybe name-dropping would help her get out of this situation quietly. 

“Oliver Queen,” she said over her shoulder. 

“Wait, did you say Oliver Queen?” he asked, moving fast to stand in front of her. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” she snapped, the tone of his voice making her insecurities flare to life. Because seeing Oliver in a club like this, knowing that this was the kind of life he used to lead–the kind of life she most definitely had never had and didn’t really fit into … 

The man’s eyes lost all pretense of even veiled politeness and openly ogled her chest. “Well, that changes things. Because now I really need to know you. I’m much better company than he is.”

“I don’t think so,” Felicity said, hoping she sounded firm. Because she wasn’t interested in this guy. She didn’t want anything to do with him. Even if she felt a little bit of doubt, that didn’t change her complete lack of desire to spend a minute in this man’s presence.

“Excuse me,” she said, taking a step back, only to feel a set of gentle hands cup her elbows. Gentle hands with calloused fingers.

“Max Fuller. It’s been too long.”

It was clear in Oliver’s voice that it hadn’t been long enough. And Felicity realized that she had no need to doubt her place in Oliver’s life. That the real Oliver was the man who was going to go home with her tonight, and help her eat mint chip ice cream straight from the carton and complain about having to talk to people he found boring and wonder how he ever once enjoyed that life. 

“Oliver Queen,” the now-named Mr. Fuller said. “Just talking to your girlfriend here. Not your normal type.” 

“My normal type changed. A lot changed about me. That happens when you get older. To most of us, at least.” 

_Sick burn_ , Felicity thought distractedly as Oliver pulled her back against his chest and slid his arms around her waist. Actually, more in the no-man-but-one’s land between her waist and her breasts. 

Mr. Fuller’s eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth, but Oliver cut him off. “We’ll have to catch up another time, Max. I want to introduce Felicity to an old friend of mine.” 

And without another word, Oliver swept her away towards a dimly-lit corner of the club. 

“I know you hate that kind of thing, but … Fuller’s hated me for years and I didn’t want him to make you a pawn in that,” he whispered in her ear. “I’m sorry.” 

She didn’t know what the story was between Oliver and Mr. Fuller. She didn’t need to know. But Felicity did know one thing: she wanted to kiss Oliver’s face off. 

So she did just that.


	143. Sunday football at the Queen-Smoak household.

_Sunday football at the Queen-Smoak household._

Growing up, one of the few times that peace reigned between the two Queen men, regardless of what Oliver had done, was on Sunday. Not for any religious reasons. Unless you could count a football team as a religion. Because for Robert and Oliver Queen, the Starling City Rockets brought them together, united them in spite of their differences.

And sometime, in the five months that he was away from Starling City, Oliver rediscovered his love for his childhood team. It started with watching a preseason game, at a neighborhood gathering, and … well, it all went downhill from there, Oliver knew Felicity would say. 

His girlfriend–and how amazing is it to say two such simple words and have them mean so much?–isn’t much of a sports fan. But she doesn’t mind watching games with him. Well, by ‘watching’, it’s mostly curling up beside him on the couch, using her tablet and looking up a half-moment too late to cheer or jeer.

And honestly, he doesn’t need her to love the team or football. It’s enough that she’s willing to sit with him. And Oliver finds that watching football, remembering the good moments with his father, having Felicity … it all combines to let him talk. To open up to Felicity in a way that he hadn’t before. To share silly stories about Thea, about Tommy. 

He had already told Felicity so many of the bad stories: about the girl he had gotten pregnant, about his years on Lian Yu, in Hong Kong, in Russia. The unhappy memories are easier, in some weird way, to talk about. Recalling the happy days? They hurt in a peculiarly bittersweet, painful way.

But it’s the first day of the season. The Rockets are kicking the asses of the Jets, Felicity is wearing one of his old t-shirts that keeps slipping off her shoulder, and there are nachos–the one food that he will forgo all his healthy eating habits to have. 

And that’s how the story comes out. 

“When I was ten, all I wanted was to be the quarterback for the Rockets. I spent all my time working on my arm, trying to throw the perfect spiral.”

Felicity looks at him and smiles. “And did you learn?”

“Nope.”

“What?” she asked, looking and sounding surprised. “I mean, I know I didn’t know you back then, but you’ve always had determination on your side. Plus, y’know, I bet you were in the ninety-ninth percentile in physical fitness for kids your age.” 

Oliver chuckled softly. “I was. But … I just didn’t have it. No matter how much I tried, it was clear that I wouldn’t ever be able to play professionally. Not even with all the hard work in the world.” He paused and looked at her. “It was Tommy who was quarterback material. He had the arm, he had the brain. But he never played, even for our high school team.”

It only takes her a minute to read between the lines. To realize just how good a friend Tommy had been to him, that he was willing to not take the position that Oliver wanted. 

She reached out and rubbed his shoulder. “I’m glad you had a friend like Tommy.”

His throat has closed up, so Oliver just nods. But then, he finds his voice. “It took me being gone for five years for him to finally take something from me that he wanted for himself. And even then, he was so torn up about loving Laurel when I came back … I wish I had made it easier on him.” 

“I didn’t know Tommy well,” Felicity said, sliding closer to him and wrapping her arms around him. “But I’m sure he knew that you only wanted the best for him. And if you sometimes didn’t act like it, it was only because you were hurting so much. And in the end, Tommy knew how much you loved him.” 

“I … I hope so,” Oliver says, giving in and pulling Felicity into his lap. Holding her tightly and burying his face in her hair. 

He misses so many people. There are so many people he loves that he’ll never get to watch another Rockets game with. And even worse, so many of those people won’t be here for all the moments he hopes are in his future. Taking Felicity to a Rockets game–his dad would have spent the whole game breaking down plays for her, just like Robert had done with Oliver. Sara and Felicity would have talked about the poor Rocket Girls, wearing skimpy uniforms in freezing temperatures. And Tommy would have asked Felicity to talk about whether the tight end had, in fact, a tight end. 

And none of those people, or dozens of other people in his life, won’t be there for the day his child–the child he wants to have with Felicity–gets to go to his or hers first Rockets game, wearing a jersey that says Queen on the back. Just like the jerseys he and Felicity would be wearing. 

(At least, he hopes so. He hopes he will make Felicity into a Queen, hopes she wants to have children with him. Hopes that he might actually be able to get her to go to a game someday.)

But for now … it’s enough to have Felicity in his arms. To be able to tell her a story about his past that he’s not ashamed of. To have the football game on in the background as he realizes that for everything he’s missing, there are some things that do last. Like the Rockets. And Felicity.


	144. The Digglet's first halloween!

_The Digglet's first halloween!_

“Oliver, you know Sara’s not going to remember this.” 

The aghast look that her boyfriend gave her made her lips twitch, but she knew better than to laugh at him now. Because Oliver Queen took Halloween seriously–and he took Sara Diggle even more seriously. Something she had realized after Digg had invited Oliver and Felicity over, to see Sara off for her first trick-or-treating. Oliver had immediately started asking questions about Sara’s costume and what kind of candy the Diggle household would be distributing. 

“How do you know she won’t? Sara’s a very smart girl,” Oliver said, cradling said girl against his massive chest. Sara looked happy as a clam, which Felicity totally got. 

“She is. She’s very smart,” Felicity said, leaning forward and smiling at Sara. “Smart enough to know when Uncle Oliver is being a crazy man.” 

Sara, in her tiger costume, laughed and let out a string of sounds. 

“Just like her Aunt Felicity,” Oliver said softly. “Babbling already.” 

Ready to shoot him a smirk, Felicity looked up at him but paused. Because … it was Oliver. The love of her life, the man who was everything to her, smiling at her while holding a beautiful, happy baby. And for a split-second, Sara’s skin lightened and her curls became a light brown, and Felicity felt her breath catch. 

Maybe it was because it was Halloween. A night that their ancestors thought the line between worlds was thin and flexible, a night when magic could happen. But for a moment, Felicity was pretty sure she saw the future. A future where Oliver wasn’t holding his adopted niece. 

He was holding his daughter. Her daughter. _Their_ daughter. 

And even though she still wasn’t sure if she wanted children–or at least thought of them as a someday proposition–Felicity realized that there was a part of her that did want a baby. 

“Felicity?”

Oliver’s voice was low and concerned. He shifted Sara and reached out to her, cupping her elbow with one hand. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah–yeah, I’m okay,” she said, straightening up and taking a deep breath. “Sorry … you know how it is up here.” She waved a hand distractedly at her head, and Oliver relaxed a little.

“Too many trains and not enough tracks?” he asked, using a metaphor she had come up with once in trying to explain how it got in her mind when there was too many thoughts.

Smiling at him, Felicity nodded and leaned up to kiss his cheek quickly. “Exactly. And it’s six, so I think it’s time for this fearsome, adorable tiger to start making the rounds.” 

Sara let out a little squeal of agreement and Oliver laughed. “The tiger agrees.” He pressed his lips to hers quickly and then pulled back, carrying Sara over to John. 

Felicity watched him go, a smile still on her face, even as her vision hovered on the fringes of her consciousness. 

Maybe it was one possible future for her. But here and now, her present was pretty spectacular. So she was going to enjoy it as much as she could.


	145. "I watched as she unclipped the black bra and let it drop. ‘Treat or treat’, she laughed. ‘Happy Halloween’, I replied."

_One of my all time favorite authors, Michael Faudet, just posted this poem earlier and I feel like Oliver and Felicity would have fun with this. "I watched as she unclipped the black bra and let it drop. ‘Treat or treat’, she laughed. ‘Happy Halloween’, I replied."_

Felicity blushed a little but lifted her chin. “You didn’t answer the question, Oliver.”

“What was the question?” he asked distractedly, letting his eyes linger on her breasts. Because yes, they had been together for five months now, but that didn’t mean he had her body memorized yet. No, that would take a lot more time and study. And with her standing right in front of him, this was the perfect chance to really focus on her chest. 

Her soft hands cupped his face and lifted his eyes to hers. As she drew closer to him and stood between his legs, his head had to tilt back more and more for the eye contact to be maintained. Having him sitting while Felicity stood was a good position. Mostly because with another step, the only thing between his face and her breasts were the hands still cupping his cheeks. 

She let out a soft huff. “Trick or treat, Oliver. It’s a simple question.”

“Felicity, when you’re topless, no question is too simple.”

“What, still?” she asked, her cheeks still pink but a disbelieving tone in her voice. 

Oliver frowned a little and leaned back a little. “Yes, still. Why are you so surprised by that? You stopped and stared when I was doing the salmon ladder the other day.”

“That’s different,” Felicity said, letting go of him so she could fold her arms over her chest. “You’re you, and I’m me.” 

Reaching out, he settled his hands lightly on her hips. “Felicity, whatever you think when you look at my body–trust me, I think the same things when I look at you. Even now. And probably until I’m eighty-six and can barely move, I’ll still look at you and feel amazed and turned-on and in love with you.” 

Felicity’s eyes blinked, and then she threw herself into his arms, knocking him back on the bed. 

As glad as he was that he had said the words, Oliver was really grateful that they were past the time for talking. Although later on, Felicity would once again ask him, ‘trick or treat?’

And he would gaze at her, and smile, and say, “Treat.”


	146. Some type of reunion between Olicity

_Some type of reunion between Olicity_

Taking a deep breath, Felicity ran her hands over her face and then through her hair. Her fingers caught on the greasy strands and she winced. 

Today was … Thursday? Wednesday? She didn’t know. All she knew was that the last time she took a shower, it was Sunday. Sunday morning, before brunch and after Oliver had woken her up with sleepy, warm, soft kisses, kisses that thrilled her to her toes and made her very aware of the ring on her finger. The ring he had put there the night before, when he asked her to marry him … 

Oh, God, she was going to start crying again. And she couldn’t do that. She needed to be strong for Oliver, needed him to see just the smile on her face when he woke up, instead of red eyes and tear stains on her cheeks. 

And she had already cried enough in the last three–or was it four?–days. Ever since Sunday night, when Oliver and the rest of the team had been surrounded by Damian Darhk’s men, surrounded by his Ghosts, and Oliver had done the stupidly brave thing and covered everyone’s retreat. Leaving himself exposed to fire that had hit him, the impact sending him spinning and stumbling until he fell off a building. 

The Kevlar of his suit could stop bullets, but it couldn’t protect him from a fall of thirty feet. She had watched in horror on the video feeds, seeing Oliver fall, all her hopes and dreams falling with him, as she wondered if all she would have left of Oliver Queen was the ring on her finger. 

Squeezing her eyes shut, Felicity told herself to calm down. To think of Oliver–which was a laugh, because he was _all_ she had thought about since she had first sat down in this hard, uncomfortable, plastic chair. Watching him in the hospital bed, his poor beautiful body bruised and battered on top of the scars, in a medical coma to allow him to heal … Felicity hadn’t broken down. Not yet. But she hadn’t been able to stop crying–silent tears that kept rolling down her cheeks. 

Everyone had spent time with Oliver: Laurel, Digg and Lyla both together and separately, Thea, even Barry in a lightning-fast visit. But Felicity had been here the whole time. All three or four days–and she should know what day it was. She had a cell phone, she could easily pull it out and look at it.

But if she looked, she would know. And whether it was three or four days, it was still too long. It was too many days without Oliver. And all she could think was that if he didn’t wake up, someday she might look back and be nostalgic for the time when three days seemed like too many, as compared to seven, or thirty, or three hundred and sixty-five. 

Felicity could feel her control fraying at the edges, so she reached out and wrapped both her hands around Oliver’s, holding on tightly. Feeling his callouses, marveling at how big and strong his hands were, remembering how he had only ever touched her with gentleness, with care, with love. 

Leaning forward, she rested her forehead against the hand sandwich she had made with his hand and her own, silently begging him to wake up. To wake up and be Oliver. 

A few tears dripped off her face, hitting his fingers. And almost immediately, Felicity felt … was that a twitch?

With energy she didn’t know she had, Felicity reeled back and looked frantically at Oliver’s face. And she started crying when she saw his tongue awkwardly reach out to lick his lips, when she saw the slight parting of his eyelids, saw the glimmer of his blue blue blue eyes. 

“Oliver!” she gasped, kicking the chair back and out of her way as she stood up. “Oh, God, you’re awake, I love you so much!” 

She pressed a kiss to his cheek, right by his nose, then cupped his face. “I’ll get your doctor, just stay awake, okay? Just long enough to tell them how you feel, okay?”

A tiny noise escaped his lips, something that could have been agreement, and Felicity took a moment to beam at him as she looked for the call button. “It’s all gonna be okay now,” she told him, not sure if she was saying the words for him or for herself. “Everything’s going to be okay.” 

He made the smallest nod, then his eyes opened a little more and he looked up at her with a beatific expression. Like looking at her was all he wanted–all he needed. Like she was everything beautiful and good in the world.

And Felicity realized that it didn’t matter if she hadn’t showered in three or four days. That it didn’t matter that she had been crying for seventy-two or ninety-six hours. Because the only things that mattered was that she was here and Oliver was awake. 

Oh, and one other thing: they were going to get married.


	147. trick or treaters dressed as the Arrow/Green Arrow and they come by the loft

_trick or treaters dressed as the Arrow/Green Arrow and they come by the loft_

Oliver was surprised when Felicity came home on Friday night with a large bag of mini candy bars. When he had given her a raised eyebrow, she had held a finger up at him. “It’s for the trick-or-treaters, not me. Okay, well, maybe I’ll steal a couple of Kit Kats, but c’mon, they’re irresistible!”

“We live in a loft. In an apartment building,” Oliver had said. “We won’t have trick-or-treaters, Felicity.”

“That’s what the universe wants you to think,” she had said, kicking off her heels and sliding off her blazer. “If you don’t get candy, you get kids knocking on your door and you have to start scrounging around for something, and then you become the weirdos who gave out pennies. But if you do buy candy, you don’t get trick-or-treaters. It’s like some corollary of Murphy’s Law.”

“Okay,” he had said, shrugging his shoulders and willing to go along with her. While making plans to hide the candy so Felicity didn’t eat it all at once, because his girlfriend was helpless against miniature versions of any treat. 

But then, the next evening, they were just settling down on the couch for a well-deserved night off, when the doorbell rang. And Felicity had been up like a shot and pulling open the door. Without checking the peephole, like always, so of course Oliver followed her only to draw up short.

Four children–two small girls in blue sparkly dresses, a medium-sized boy dressed as a fireman, and a slightly-older boy in a bloody doctor’s coat–stood in the doorway. Felicity was cooing over all of the children, holding the bowl of candy that she must have placed by the door without Oliver realizing. 

“So you’re both Elsa? I love Frozen–it made me wish I had a sister like you do! Firemen are very important, you’re right–I bet you’re making Star City a lot safer. And … well, that blood looks very–very realistic.” 

She passed out a few candy bars to each child, her smile bright, and sent them on their way. The door had only closed behind her when she faced him and grinned. “And then there’s the lesser-known corollary, of Thea telling me that there were a bunch of kids in this building and we better have good candy, since she had a reputation to uphold.” 

Chuckling, Oliver leaned down to kiss her, only to be interrupted by the doorbell. 

Together, they gave out candy fairly steadily for the next twenty minutes, seeing many more little girls in sparkly blue dresses–apparently they were the princess from the latest Disney animated movie–and boys in a variety of ninja, pirate, and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle costumes. There were even a few boys, and one girl, dressed up as the Flash, which Felicity couldn’t help exclaiming over (and Oliver felt a small twinge of … something, at seeing kids dressing up as the Flash and trick-or-treating in Star City). 

“Barry will get a kick out of that,” she said, smiling at Oliver as she looked at the picture of the girl-Flash she had just taken, to go with the rest of the photos she had snapped. 

“I sure do,” he replied, grinning as Felicity swatted his shoulder. 

“Be nice and get the door,” she said as the doorbell sounded again. “I have to go to the bathroom.” 

Taking the only-half-full bowl of candy she shoved into his hands, Oliver couldn’t help watching her go before he opened the door. And he nearly dropped the bowl at what he saw.

A gangly boy, no more than fourteen, with that half-grown-into-his-body look about him that Oliver remembered from himself at that age, stood before him, his chin raised defiantly. That was about all of his face that Oliver could see. Because the boy was dressed in a pretty good version of his old costume. And he was holding the hand of a little boy who was the spitting image of Roy.

“Twick or tweat!” the little boy said loudly, his smile missing one of his front teeth. 

Oliver couldn’t respond, couldn’t move. Because … two boys were trick-or-treating as the Arrow and Arsenal. And it made that twinge he felt each time he had seen a Flash seem silly and small. 

Because at least to these two boys … the Arrow had been an inspiration. Not someone to fear, but someone to admire. 

“Mister? Twick or tweat?” 

The little boy’s voice, now hesitant, snapped Oliver out of his thoughts. “Oh! Right. Yeah, happy Halloween.” He gave both boys a large handful of candy, then paused. “So … you’re the Arrow and Arsenal?”

“My bwover loves the Awwow,” lisped the younger one, looking up at the older one with all the hero worship a younger sibling could possess. “But I like Awsenal a lot.”

Oliver smiled at the little boy, then looked at his brother. “Yeah? Why do you like the Arrow?”

“Because he did something, instead of complaining and doing nothing like everybody else,” the boy said, his voice defensive. Like he had justified his costume all night long and wasn’t exactly regretting it, but wished he didn’t have to explain why he had chosen to dress up as a vigilante crime-fighter. 

Nodding slowly, Oliver gave the boy a small smile. “He did.”

A smile flashed across the boy’s face. “You think so?” 

“I do,” Oliver said, trying to stay cool. “What do you think of that new Green Arrow?”

“Oh, it’s the same guy,” the young Arrow said confidently. “The new costume is badass–” He sneaked a look at his brother, but he hadn’t noticed as he cataloged his candy haul. The young Arrow looked back at Oliver. “I love the new costume, but I couldn’t figure out to do the shoulder things, and besides, it’s a little too cold for bare arms, y’know?” 

“I know,” Oliver replied with an ironic chuckle. He really did know. He gave both boys a smile. “It’s getting late, you two should get on home.”

Nodding quickly, the older boy nodded. “Yeah, you’re our last stop. C’mon, Joey–”

“It’s Awsenal!” his brother corrected him. 

Oliver knew the older boy was rolling his eyes, but he smiled at his little brother. “Okay, Arsenal, let’s thank the nice man before we go home and show Mom our candy.”

The little boy looked up at Oliver and grinned, a grin that took him back to when it was him and Roy out in the field and his protegee would grin just like that. “Tank you!”

“You’re welcome,” Oliver said, before holding his hand out to the older boy. “My name’s Oliver. It’s nice to meet you, Arrow.” 

The boy’s face reddened, but his shoulders straightened and he drew himself up to his full height. “It’s nice to meet you, Oliver. Thank you and good night.”

“Oh, no, you two aren’t leaving before I get a picture!” Felicity’s voice was full of emotion that she hid behind a peppy cheerfulness. Oliver would bet she had seen at least some of his interaction with the boys. “Oliver, get in the picture, too.” 

When Felicity shared her Halloween photos with the gang at Star Labs as well as the rest of Team Arrow, everyone loved the photos of the Elsas and the ninjas, and Cisco ranked the various Flashes and gave top marks to the girl version, much to Barry’s chagrin. But the photo that got the best response was the one of Oliver, standing with one arm around the younger Arrow while the mini-Arsenal stood in front of them, Oliver’s hand resting protectively on his shoulder. 

Barry had the photo printed out and framed, sending it to Oliver with a note. _So maybe I was wrong–you can inspire as the Arrow. But I think Mayor Oliver Queen, the Green Arrow, has that guy beat._

_(And just think if you were Mr. Smoak, too–you’d be unstoppable.)_

Oliver put the photo in his office once he was installed in office, and kept the note in the backing of the frame, until the day he proposed to Felicity. He gave her the note after she said yes.


	148. I wish you would write me a fic... where Felicity asks Oliver out on a date before Oliver gets up the courage to ask her.

_I wish you would write me a fic... where Felicity asks Oliver out on a date before Oliver gets up the courage to ask her._

Oliver had lost count of how many reps he had done on the salmon ladder, but it was a lot.  But not enough to help him figure out how to ask Felicity out.  Every time he reached the bottom of the ladder, he paused,in case an idea had come to him.  But there was nothing, so he just started back up the ladder. 

And then, suddenly, there was a loud noise from the vicinity of Felicity’s computer.  “Okay, I have had it!”

He stopped and hung from the bar, looking at Felicity in confusion.  “Felicity?”

Her heels clicked loudly against the floor as she stomped over to him.  “This is ridiculous, Oliver.   _Ridiculous_!”

Blinking, he tried to figure out what had gotten Felicity upset.  Releasing his grip on the bar, he landed lightly, straightening up to stand in front of her.  “What’s wrong?”

“This!  You and me!  Dancing around the thing we both want, like we’re twelve years old!”

A chill went down his spine.  The thing they _both_ wanted?

“Felicity?” he asked, feeling like he was asking her so many things by just saying her name.

As if her head of steam had run out, Felicity took a tiny step back, but then lifted her chin.  “I’m just saying–”  She pushed her glasses up.  “Would you like to have dinner with me, Oliver?  And in case you were wondering, I mean as a date.  A date, between two friends who might have feelings that–well, there’s feelings.  All kinds of feelings, and … yeah.”  She swallowed.  “So?  Will you have dinner with me?”

Oliver felt a smile bloom on his face.  Because … of course Felicity would ask him out.  She was a genius; of course she figured out this before he did.  

“Yes,” he said, nodding and still smiling at her.  And the way that Felicity smiled back at him made his heart feel like it was floating out of his chest.


	149. Teacher AU

_I wish you would write an AU fic where Oliver was the ridiculously handsome, but kinda curmudgeonly high school teacher with students who were always sabotaging his classroom computer in an effort to set him up with Felicity, the new head of the campus IT department. (Obviously featuring Dig as the seasoned head of Oliver's department who finds great pleasure in all of this.)_

Oliver Queen stalked into the teacher’s lounge, making a beeline for John Diggle.  The head of his department, Digg had ten more years of experience than Oliver did, and this wouldn’t be the first time Oliver had sought his guidance.  But it might be the first time he was this angry when he talked to his mentor.

“Digg, I swear to God, these kids are gonna drive me crazy.”

“What’d they do this time, ask you to teach them the curse words in Mandarin and Russian?”  The older man glanced at him, then returned his gaze to the pile of papers he was grading.

“I wish,” he growled, yanking a chair out and sitting down.  “No, they–they keep doing stuff to my computer.”

That made Digg put down his red pen and look at Oliver.  “They’re doing stuff to your computer.”

Oliver nodded.  “Yeah–I don’t know what they’re doing, but they mess it up enough that I usually have to call IT to come untangle it.”  

A smile flashed across Digg’s face, before he raised a hand to hide his mouth.  “Hmmm.”

“They should consider themselves lucky that I don’t do any grading on that computer.  I’d have to take this more seriously.  But as it is, it’s a misuse of school resources.  Not to mention it takes up the valuable time of the IT Department.”  Oliver could feel his anger abating as his concern took over.  “I don’t understand why my students are doing this, but I’m getting worried, John.  What if this is a cry for help?”

Digg let out a laugh.  “Oliver, relax.”

“You think I shouldn’t be worried about this?” Oliver asked, frowning.

“Oh, you should be worried.  Because it’s not gonna stop until you ask out Felicity.”  

Oliver reared back in his chair, staring at Digg with wide eyes.  “W-what?!?”

“Man, with how observant you are, how have you missed this?  The kids have been talking about nothing else since she started working here.”

“Talking about what?” Oliver asked, feeling like he was on a roller-coaster, at the moment right before it dropped from a peak.  

“How Mr. Queen and Ms. Smoak are perfect for each other.  Taking bets on when–and how–you two will get together.  I think there’s even some fanfiction floating around, but if any of the students asked me, I will deny knowing anything about that.  But I definitely need to recruit your sister for the literary magazine.”

Rubbing a hand over his face, Oliver tried to make sense of this all.  Everyone thought he and Ms. Smoak … ?

Of course he had noticed her.  The bubbly blonde computer teacher/IT technician had caught his eye the moment he saw her.  But then, they had started talking, and … 

She was different from anyone he had ever met.  Something about her babbling tangents didn’t make him feel annoyed, but charmed.  Watching her hands gesture and her lips move had become one of his favorite things.  And … he couldn’t deny that each time he realized his computer was broken, his heart had given a little leap at the thought of getting to see Felicity.  

(Wait, his sister was writing stories about him and Felicity?  He was going to need to talk to Thea when he got home tonight.)

Shaking his head, Oliver looked at Digg, then leaned in towards him.  “I … I’ve noticed her.  But I thought there were rules against teachers dating.”  

Digg shook his head.  “Did you even bother to read your faculty handbook?  Only if the teachers are in the same department is dating off-limits.”  

“C’mon, does anyone read the faculty handbook?” Oliver asked, feeling defensive.

“I did.”  

Oliver closed his eyes as the bright, cheery voice of Felicity Smoak indicated the arrival of the woman he had been crushing on–secretly, he thought, but apparently not so much–since she arrived at Starling Prep.  

With a smile, Felicity sank into a chair at their table.  “How are you guys doing today?”

“Pretty well.  Although if you’ll excuse me, I need to give Lyla a call,” Digg said, gathering his lunch trash and standing up.  

“Say hi for me!” Felicity told Digg, a wide smile on her face.  Oliver watched her and nearly sighed.  Her smile was amazing.

Felicity turned her head and made eye contact with him.  Her cheeks flushed and she dropped her gaze to her bagged lunch.  “Hi, Oliver.”

He cleared his throat.  “Hey.  How … how’s your day so far?”

“Oh, not too bad.  My students turned in their midterm projects, and I’m really excited to see what they’ve come up with.”  She paused and frowned.  “Although their proposals at the start of the semester were all very …”

“What?” Oliver asked, feeling curious.

Felicity made a slight adjustment to her glasses.  “They all seemed pretty focused on making me have to talk to you in order to grade them.  Like the translation app.  Or the program to use archery to teach physics.  One student is studying great comebacks in history and looking for common aspects between them.”  

Oliver’s lips parted, feeling slightly breathless.  Because … it sure sounded like her students were on the same wavelength as his.  And–and maybe the kids were on to something.  

“That’s … that’s interesting,” Oliver managed to get out.  “I was–I was just talking to Digg, about how my students seem to be playing around with my computer.  Breaking it, so I’d have to ask you to come fix it.”  

Felicity’s big blue eyes widened behind her glasses.  “Oh.  You noticed that, too?”

“Not until Digg pointed it out to me,” he admitted sheepishly, unable to hold back a smile.  

“He had to do the same for me,” Felicity said shyly.  

For some reason, that answer, more than anything else, gave Oliver a shot of confidence.  The idea that she hadn’t realized what was going on either–the sweet appeal of her response–it made him lean in towards her.

“Really?  The genius hadn’t figured it out?” he asked, breathing her in.  

She looked at him and grinned.  “I’m a genius with computers.  Not with people.”

“I’d disagree,” Oliver said, gazing at her.  “You … you always seem to say the right thing when we talk.”  

Oliver watched as she drew in a breath, her eyes locked on his.  “I do?”

Nodding, he leaned even closer.  “Maybe we could talk more sometime.  Over dinner?”

“Really?” she asked, sounding delighted and surprised and amazed.  

“Really,” he said with a grin.  God, she was adorable.  How had he resisted her this long?

“Then … yes.  Yes, I’d love to.”  Felicity gave him a wide smile, leaning in towards him until there was barely any space between them.

His eyes dropped to her brightly-painted lips, the temptation to close the distance and kiss her rushing through him.  He had worked so hard to look at Felicity as just a colleague, but now that he was considering her as a woman–a beautiful, remarkable, entrancing woman–the feelings were just rushing over him.  

But he was not about to kiss her for the first time in the middle of the teacher’s lounge.  So Oliver settled for smiling at her.  “Tonight?  I’ll pick you up at six?”

Felicity nodded, her ponytail swishing, her smile bright.  “Tonight.”

XXX

John Diggle entered his classroom for his last class of the day, a smirk of a smile on his lips.  He stood in front of his students, his arms folded over his chest.  The kids quieted quickly, all of them sensing something important was about to happen.

And they were right.

“Who had today in the pool?”

And with that, the classroom was rocked by cheers and high-fives, and John Diggle grinned and turned to the SmartBoard.  “Okay, let’s use the ‘when will Mr. Queen and Ms. Smoak go on a date?’ pool to talk about probability.

End.


	150. Oliver is home sick, and Felicity takes a day off as CEO to take care of him

_Oliver is home sick, and Felicity takes a day off as CEO to take care of him_

“Felicity, I’m not that sick.  You didn’t need to stay home with me.”  

“Au contraire, mon–wait, you’re not my brother, so ‘mon frere’ doesn’t work.  And ‘au contraire, ma fiancee’ doesn’t rhyme.”  

“Tish, you spoke French.”  

“You … you know the Addams Family?!?!?”

“I know some pop culture, y’know.”

“True, but this is the first time it was something good.”

“Just because I don’t like Star Trek …”

“I admit, Star Trek has never really been my thing–it’s always left me kinda cold.  But c’mon, Oliver, you barely know anything about pop culture.  This summer proved that, so I feel my surprise is justified.”  

“Okay, maybe you’re right.  But you still didn’t need to stay home with me.  I’m fine.”

“Oliver, you are sweating buckets while wrapped up in blankets.  You’ve got the flu and I know it’s an insult, your body letting you down like this, but it happens to all of us.”

“I know that.  I did get sick while I was on Lian Yu, you know.”  

“So what’s the problem?”

“I … I just didn’t have someone who would stay with me.  I mean, it wasn’t possible.  Someone had to get wood to keep the fire going, someone had to get food.  And that’s the times when I was lucky enough to have someone around.  Otherwise, I was the one out gathering wood and hunting.”  

“And now I’m even more sure about staying here with you.  Because you deserve to have someone take care of you, Oliver Queen.”  

“I only want you to take care of me.”  

“For that, you deserve a kiss, too.”  

“No, don’t–”

“You have never turned down a kiss.”

“I’ve got the flu!  I don’t want you to get it.”

“Not gonna happen.”  

“Felicity, you’ve been kissing me while I’ve been infectious.  We live together.  You’re probably going to get sick.”

“No, I won’t.”

“You won’t?”

“Nope.  CEOs don’t get sick.  Just watch.”

“Okay …”

“I’m fine, Oliver, I swear–why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re taking your shirt off.”

“You’ve seen me do it before.”

“Yes, many times.  But … you look awfully flushed, Felicity.”

“I swear to God, Oliver, if you’re trying to gaslight me into being sick …”

“We could take care of each other this way.”

“You are ridiculous, Oliver.”

“And you love me.  Even when I’m sick and get you sick.”


	151. Oliver and Felicity are both sick and taking care of each other

_Oliver and Felicity are both sick and taking care of each other_

“Oliver.  Olllllllivvvvvvvverrrrrrrr.”  

“I guess it’s true about only children being whiny.”

“If I didn’t hurt so much–and it would hurt me more than you–I would hit you.  Please get me some water?”

“Only because I got you sick.”

“Mmmm.”  

“Wait–did you ask me to get up just so you could ogle me?”

“Your ass in those sweatpants, Oliver–I can’t help it.”  

“You are without shame.”

“And I spent two years thinking we were never going to happen and you would always be forbidden fruit.”

“Like you weren’t the same for me.”

“What?”

“Those dresses with the cutouts?  And the flirty skirts that showed off your legs?  You knew what you were doing.”

“Okay, so maybe– _maybe_ –I was fighting fire with fire.  But it was more about me feeling more confident than driving you crazy, I swear.”

“I know it was.  That made it even more maddening.  Here, drink your water.” 

“Thank you.  When did you last take a pill?”

“A while ago.  I’m starting to feel better.”

“Yeah … Oliver, you’re still burning up.  Take another pill.”  

“How do you know that it’s me?  It could be you.  You got sick after me.”

“You are worse than a little kid, you know that?”  

“I just know my body.”  

“Yeah, well, I know your body, too–and not just in that way–and I think you should take another pill.”  

“Fine, fine …”

“C’mon, we can watch a movie and cuddle.  You can even pick the movie.”

“Die Hard?”

“If that’s what you want.”  

“You don’t sound very thrilled.”  

“Don’t get me wrong, Bruce Willis at his prime and Alan Rickman’s first major role, those are good things.  But it’s kind of ridiculous, someone like Bruce Willis being able to do all that.”

“It was the 80s.  Action heroes didn’t have to be incredibly ripped.”  

“What a shame.  I think I’m just gonna imagine you in the Bruce Willis part.”

“And you as Bonnie Bedelia?”

“Duh, of course.  And Malcolm is Hans Gruber.”  

“This actually works really well.  Because now I’m picturing Captain Lance as the policeman.”  

“I knew I’d bring you around to the nerd side of things eventually.”

“Let’s just watch the movie.”


	152. An Olicity night in

_How about an Olicity night in, like a movie night or something. And there is just LOTS of cuddling. ALL the cuddle! Then, Oliver gets a little handsy, but all it leads to is an intense make-out session. I would love an Olicity make-out scene._

“I’m here, I’m here, I’m here!  With the movie, no less!”  

Oliver looked over his shoulder, smiling a little at the excited tone in Felicity’s voice.  Their last two movie nights had either started late or been cut short thanks to problems at Palmer Tech, so the fact that Felicity was home on time was a good start to the night.  Then he frowned when he saw that she was in her wheelchair.  

“Is the bio-implant bothering you today?” he asked, rising from the couch and going over to her.  

“Stupid heels,” she said, weakly lifting one of her feet.  “Curtis told me when I walked in this morning that they were too high.  He was right.”  

“Ah,” Oliver said, giving her a small smile.  “Well, I think I can help with that.”  

Bending down, Oliver lifted Felicity out of her chair, carrying her to the couch. He settled her down, pulling the throw off the back of the couch, and draping it over her legs.  “You rest.  Dinner is still warm–we’ll watch the movie when we eat, and then I’ll give you a foot rub.”  

“My hero,” she said softly, giving him a smile that was so full of love, Oliver felt his heart clench in his chest.  When he thought about how close he had come to never seeing her smile at him like that … 

Her hand touched his cheek, bringing Oliver back. “Hey, easy on the guilt there,” Felicity said, her eyes meeting his.  “You don’t deserve it, because I’ve forgiven you.”  

Nodding, he turned his head a little to kiss the palm of her hand.  “I know.”  

“Although given how good our dinner smells, if you keep me waiting, I might start reconsidering …” Felicity teased him gently.  

With a soft laugh, Oliver smiled at her.  “No, you won’t.  Because you like my cooking too much.”  

Felicity smiled back at him.  “You know me as well as I know you.”  

“That’s why we work,” Oliver replied, pressing a light kiss to her lips before he straightened up and headed into the kitchen.

XXX

Their plates, with only a few crumbs remaining from the chicken cordon bleu he had made, were sitting on the coffee table.  The movie–a stylish 1960s-esque spy caper–was half over, but Oliver had somewhat lost the thread of the plot.  Because he was very, very focused on the foot rub he was giving his fiancee.  

“Mmmmm … “ Felicity breathed out, leaning back against the couch cushions.  Her hair was out of her ponytail and tousled, her eyes were half-open behind her glasses, and she was breathing slowly, her body relaxing with each brush of his fingers against her feet.

Oliver smiled.  Being able to relieve her tension, to give her comfort, made him feel good.  Made him feel like their separation had taught him more than he had realized about how to love someone.

Gently, he kneaded the balls of her feet.  “So, lower heels next time?” he asked, looking at her with one eyebrow raised.

“Hmmm?” she asked, her eyes blinking.  Then she shrugged one shoulder and smiled.  “It’s important to challenge myself.”  

“And you call me stubborn,” he said, slowly rotating her feet at the ankles to loosen them up.  

Felicity, a bit clumsily, pulled her feet out of his lap and got her legs underneath her.  “ _You_ are stubborn. _I_ am determined,” she said, crawling over to him.  

“Is that right?” Oliver asked, grinning up at her.  

“Yes,” Felicity said, her hands sliding over his shoulders as she leaned in towards him, her body coming to rest against his.  Her arms wrapped around his neck and her hair fell around his face.  “I am always right.”  

“Who was it that always insisted she knew where we were going and always got us lost?”

She lightly tugged on his hair.  “I have great instincts!  They’re just too good for anyone who ever laid out any of the places we visited.”

Unable to hold back, Oliver laughed loudly, his head falling back against the couch cushions.  “Seriously, honey?” he asked, once he was able to catch his breath.

Only for Felicity to totally take away all his air, by kissing him thoroughly.  Her mouth was warm and soft yet demanding, her tongue sliding past his lips and seeking to increase her pleasure and his.  

Oliver’s hands went to Felicity’s hips, gripping them tightly as she kept kissing him.  He felt his own body melting, like Felicity’s had as he had rubbed her feet.  

While his hands held on to her, one of Felicity’s slid from behind his head down his chest.  Her fingers, so clever, stroked all the secret spots that made him shudder.  Then she started fumbling with the buttons of his shirt.  

“Felicity …” he moaned against her lips.  

Her lips pressed kisses along his jawline.  “Yes?” she asked, her voice soft and seductive and knowing.  Waiting for him to agree that she was always right.  

Well, he wasn’t going to give in that easily.  

Moving one hand to her back, Oliver pressed Felicity to him as he used his other hand to flip them.  Felicity let out a half-gasp, half-moan as he turned the tables–literally–on her.  She beamed up at him.  “Nice move, Queen.”  

“Thanks, soon-to-be-Queen,” he said, lowering his head and swallowing the moan she let out at his reply.  

He could feel Felicity’s hands fluttering between their bodies, unbuttoning his shirt.  Meanwhile, Oliver rocked his hips slowly and shallowly against her, savoring the heat of her body.  

“Oh, Oliver …” she said, leaning her head back.  

“I’ll do that thing you like if you admit you’re not always right,” he said, nuzzling her neck.  “Since you were able to admit that Curtis was right, I think it’s my turn.  Tell me I’m right.”

“What–what makes you think I can’t get you to do that thing I like without having to admit anything?”

Felicity was talking a good game, but he could hear the strain in her voice.  How she was having to work to maintain the teasing tone.  Oliver lifted his head and looked at her.  Then, slowly, he let a smirk bloom on his face.

Her struggle was plainly visible.  Oliver couldn’t help enjoying this.  And then, when she let out a groan and pulled him in for a kiss, he knew he had won.  

Although the way she whispered “You were right” in his ear after their kiss was very nice of her.  

And that was why Oliver was very nice to her in return.  Because after all, he was right, and he wanted to make Felicity happy.

End.  


	153. Sara meeting Donna at Oliver and Felicity's wedding

_Sara meeting Donna at Oliver and Felicity's wedding_

When she had gotten the invitation, Sara couldn’t help grinning.  Not many women would have invited their soon-to-be-husband’s ex to their wedding.  

But then, Felicity wasn’t many women.  

And really, after the initial rush of reconnecting with Oliver, Sara had known that the two of them weren’t meant to last.  After all, she was still completely in love with Nyssa.  And Ollie … well, anyone with eyes could see that it was just a matter of time before he figured out how he felt about Felicity.

So Sara was really happy to be invited to their wedding and to be there, as a witness to one of her oldest friends, and one of her newest friends, finding happiness together.  

Dressed in a pale blue dress with a flared skirt, her hair up in a messy bun, Sara walked into the restaurant in downtown Star City that was hosting the wedding and reception.  With floor-to-ceiling windows and hardwood floors, the venue was clearly a blank slate for any event.  And this event featured large, colorful flower arrangements, lots of twinkle lights, and … feathers?

“Oh, this is wrong–this is all wrong!  They were supposed to be in a semicircle!”

Sara turned, realizing that the woman speaking must be the curvy blonde in the five-inch heels.  She was a stunner–but even more impressive was the air of command about her.  Her words immediately prompted the two tuxedo-clad men standing in front of her to snap to and begin moving chairs.

Two men she knew very well.  

“If I offer to help, will you tell me how you got my dad and Ollie to immediately do what you said?” Sara asked, stepping up to the blonde.  

The blonde smiled brightly.  “Hi!  And we could use help–wait, dad?”  She looked at Quentin, then looked back at Sara and her smile became even bigger and brighter.  “Sara?”

Sara nodded and then found herself being hugged within an inch of her life.  “Oh!  I’m so happy to meet you!  I’ve heard so much about you from Quentin!”

Over the mystery blonde’s shoulder, Sara could see her dad trying to speak, while Oliver was just grinning, looking incredibly amused.  “Um, can’t breathe,” Sara said.

“Eeks!” the blonde said, drawing back.  “Sorry.  A little excited today, and now getting to meet Quentin’s other daughter, it’s just so wonderful!”  She stuck her hand out to Sara.  “I’m Donna.  Felicity’s mom!  And, well …”  She looked over at Sara’s dad, smiling brightly.  

The small smile that appeared on her dad’s face, the way his whole face softened, gave away the relationship between Donna and Quentin.  Sara bit back her smile and let her gaze meet Ollie’s for a moment, who was still grinning like a fool, before she looked to her dad.  

“So you and Donna, huh?” Sara asked.

“Yeah … we’ve been dating for a while now,” Quentin said, trying to sound gruff and failing completely.  

“Nine months!” Donna said, moving over to take Quentin’s arm.  “The best nine months of my life, well, second-best nine months, after Felicity.”  

God, this was amazing.  Sara let her grin spread.  “That’s great.”  

Donna smiled and turned, going up on her tip-toes to kiss Quentin on the cheek, then immediately wiped away a speck of lipstick.  “Okay, boys, let’s get these chairs right, and then Sara and I can go check on Felicity while you do … well, whatever men do right now.”  

“Have a drink,” Quentin suggested.  

“Oh, Quentin!” Donna said, slapping him on the arm and giggling.  

Sara moved over to move chairs beside Oliver.  “Wow,” she said softly.

“That was my initial reaction, too,” he said, the smile never fading from his face.  “But Donna’s great.  She really makes your dad happy.”  

“I can see that,” Sara said, glancing over to see how Quentin was following Donna’s every move.  

Suddenly, something occurred to her.  And it was so hilarious that she had to stop moving chairs to laugh.  

Oliver looked at her, his forehead wrinkled.  “Sara?” 

She waved her hand at him. “I–I just realized–”  

“Realized what?” Oliver asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Finally managing to speak through her giggles, Sara said, “For _years_ , Dad was so scared of having you as a son-in-law.  I bet he thought he had narrowly escaped that … but with the way things are going with Donna …”  

He looked over at Quentin and Donna, his face settling into a mix of his grumpy cat and angry tiger faces.  And then, proving how good Felicity had been for Oliver, he started to laugh.  He laughed so hard, he had to rest a hand on Sara’s shoulders.  

“Hey, you two, what are you laughing about?” Quentin asked, stepping over to them.

Sara took one look at her dad, then looked back at Oliver, and that set them both off again.  

When they finally told Quentin, his reaction wasn’t laughter–more annoyance.  But Sara could tell that he didn’t mind the idea of Oliver being his son-in-law after all.  Especially when he considered just what would need to happen for that relationship to be realized.  

And a year later, when Sara came back to Star City for another wedding, she sat with Felicity and talked about how happy their parents were together, while Oliver, in his capacity as mayor, served as the officiant for his in-laws’ marriage.


	154. Felicity gives Oliver incentives to ace the mayoral debate

_After last night's episode it was implied that Oliver prepared well for the debate, much to Thea's surprise. So my prompt suggestion is: what if Felicity gave him extra incentives to study hard and ace the debate?_

With a groan, Oliver leaned forward and rested his head on the conference table.  “Thea.”

“Ollie, whining isn’t going to change anything.  You need to have these facts and data points memorized, so you can use them when you debate Ruve.”  Thea sounded snappish and annoyed, and Oliver’s jaw tensed.  He knew she was right, but that note in her voice meant that it would be better, for both of them, if debate prep was over for today.

Straightening up, Oliver gathered the note cards.  “Look, let’s call it a night.  I’ll take this home and study it there.”

Thea quirked an eyebrow at him.  “Seriously?”  

“Hey, this is important.  I know that,” he said, sliding the cards into the pocket of his suit jacket.  “Just let me learn this on my own, and I bet I’ll win this debate.”

XXX

“I am going to lose this debate.”  

His head resting in his hands, Oliver stared at the cards that were spread out over their dining table.  The words and numbers were swimming before him until he didn’t know whether Star City’s literacy rate was 15% or 85%, if the city was in debt or running a surplus, if crime was up or down.  

He was screwed.

“What did you just say, Oliver Jonas Queen?”

Jerking up, Oliver turned around, staring at Felicity.  “What are you doing home?”

Felicity mock-glared at him as she wheeled herself towards him.  “Thea told me you were having problems with debate prep and bailed.”  Or … maybe it wasn’t so mock of a glare.  Because she definitely sounded annoyed.  

“I … I didn’t bail.  I just–I thought I should try studying on my own,” Oliver offered weakly, shifting in his chair.  

“Oliver, I love you.  I know you’re intelligent and determined.  But …”  

The way her voice trailed off made Oliver brace himself for what was to come.  Because he knew she loved him, and thought the world  of him.  But Felicity was also practical and realistic.  She knew his flaws.  And studying was definitely one of them.

“I think you need the proper motivation.”  The annoyance was gone from her voice and in its place was … 

Holy shit, Felicity was using her flirty seductress voice.  

Blinking, Oliver stared at her.  

She held her hand out to him.  “Give me your cards.  And then meet me upstairs in fifteen minutes.”  

When he kept staring at her, Felicity grinned.  “Oliver.  Cards.”  

“Right, right,” he said, gathering them quickly and handing them over.  “There you go.  Felicity, what are you–?”

“Fifteen minutes,” she said, wheeling over to the chair lift that had been installed last week.  Something that she had insisted on, as much as she did like Oliver carrying her around, “but what if you’re not around, Oliver?  I need to be independent.”  So even though it had made his stomach sink a little, he had agreed to the chair lift.  Because it did make sense–and besides, it was Felicity asking, which meant he’d do it.

XXX

The fifteen minutes felt like they lasted forever.  He could hear Felicity wheeling around above him and an occasional grunt, which made him wonder just what she was doing.  By the time she called out, “Okay, come on up!”, Oliver was more than ready.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he hurried into their bedroom, to see his fiancee looking very … lumpy.  And flushed.  

“Felicity?” he asked, eyeing her.  She had his old grey hoodie zipped up to her neck, while it looked like she was wearing two skirts over the jeans she had been wearing earlier.  His cards were resting in her lap.  

She gave him a bright smile.  “Surprise.”

“Um … what’s the surprise?” he asked, not really understanding.  

Laughing, Felicity wheeled her chair towards him.  “Welcome to strip debate prep.  You get a number right, I take something off.  You get something wrong … well, I won’t put something back on, because I’m burning up and I want to eventually be naked.  But I figured with the right motivation, you’d realize that you know all of this.”  She tapped a blue-painted fingernail against the cards.  “So what do you think?”

“What do I think?”  Oliver leaned forward, cupping her face in his hands as he kissed her slowly.  

She smiled against his lips, her hand stroking his arm.  “Let’s get started.”  

“Yes–yes, let’s get started,” Oliver said, straightening up and rubbing his hands together.

“I’m not gonna go easy on you,” Felicity said, a delightfully charming schoolteacher vibe to her that made Oliver shift as his pants grew a little too tight.  

But he needed to learn this information.  And he wanted to prove to Felicity that she was right–that he _did_ know all this information and he just needed someone to have some confidence in him.  And the fact that Felicity had this much belief in him … 

Oliver met her eyes and lifted his chin.  “Bring it, Smoak.”

XXX

“Wow, Ollie,” Thea said, shuffling the cards and looking at him.  “I’m impressed.”  

Grinning, Oliver leaned back in his chair.  “I just needed some motivation.”

His sister quirked an eyebrow.  “Felicity-shaped motivation?”

“Thea!”


	155. Condom Roses

_Condom Roses_

Felicity had never really believed in making a big deal about Valentine’s Day.  Yes, it was a nice day to celebrate, whether you were in a relationship or not–because love was something to celebrate.  But it didn’t have to be over-the-top or fancy.  It was the thought that counted, really.  

But that was before she had started dating–much less married–Oliver Queen. 

Because Oliver?  Valentine’s Day was like his Super Bowl.  Or World Series.  Or … some other kind of sports championship.  Only instead of sports, it was the championship of romance.  

Their first Valentine’s Day together, he had done nothing but pamper her the whole day.  And since it had been a Sunday, it was literally _all day_.  Breakfast in bed, complete with a little bouquet of daisies.  That would have been plenty.  But then Oliver had carried her downstairs to reveal two large floral arrangements and a mammoth box of candy.  They had snacked on it while watching her favorite movies.  And then, after the most amazing dinner that Oliver had ever cooked, and right before chocolate souffles, he had handed her a brand-new tablet, one that had just been revealed at CES three weeks before.  

“Paid by me, out of my last trust,” he had reassured her, misjudging the nervous look on her face.  He had given her a delighted little smirk.  “Trust me, I know that you don’t get your fiancee to pay for her own Valentine’s Day gift.”  

Felicity had done her best to laugh, thinking about how all she had done for today was buy sexy underwear.  Which she knew Oliver would appreciate, but … but it didn’t feel like nearly enough.

(Although maybe it was, considering the three orgasms Oliver gave her that night after she had revealed the sexy underwear.)

Still, she wanted to up her game a little.  This was their first Valentine’s Day as a married couple.  Although it was only a month after their honeymoon, and everyone seemed thoroughly disgusted with their newlywedness, Felicity wanted today to be special.  So she had been working since they got back from their honeymoon to really pull out all the stops.  

She couldn’t cook an amazing dinner.  Oliver was certainly not the flowers type of man.  And she had done sexy lingerie yet.  So what could she get him that would show she cared about him?  That showed him how grateful she was that they had gotten a second chance at this, after having to step back from each other last year with all the craziness that had happened?

While she was a certified genius, Felicity knew she didn’t have Oliver’s knack for romance.  But she was going to do her best, damn it.  And she was going to pay attention and take notes, so that if she didn’t get it right this year, she had next year.  And all the years after that, to show that she could romance Oliver Queen like he had romanced her.  

So this year, she arranged to have the day off from work.  To begin the day, she did the one thing she could handle in the kitchen that wasn’t coffee: smoothies.  Even though she preferred fruity, sweet ones, she made one of the super-healthy, protein-filled, very green kind that Oliver liked.  She poured it into a new travel tumbler and sent him off to the Foundry to work out.  

Taking advantage of his absence, she put new sheets on the bed and checked that the box of vanilla and amber candles were safely in her closet, ready for tonight.  

When Oliver got back, she let herself be persuaded into joining him in the shower.  (She was not made of stone, and a wet, gleaming Oliver … she was married, not dead.  Married to him!)  

Post-shower, they made breakfast together, Felicity handling the coffee-making and fruit salad prep while Oliver did the pancakes.  That was when he gave her a box of the chocolate truffles she loved.  A box of only four truffles.  At her tiny, quickly-concealed frown of disappointment, Oliver had laughed.  

“I might have arranged for you to get a delivery of four chocolate truffles every week for the next year.  So you can savor them but not worry about gaining weight.”  

The tears had pricked her eyes and she had smiled at him brightly.  “Perfect husband.”  

“Not perfect,” Oliver said softly, reaching out to cup her face in his large hand.  His thumb oh-so-lightly brushed over her cheek, catching the one tear that fell from her eye.  “Just trying to be a good one.”  

“You are–you’re the best good husband ever,” Felicity said, leaning across the table and kissing him slowly and sweetly.  

If it wasn’t for his mayoral duties, they would have gone for round two.  But they both knew that those responsibilities couldn’t be overlooked easily, so with a smile and a wink, Oliver had headed to City Hall.  And that gave Felicity time to finish her preparations.  

Felicity knew his schedule, thanks to the help of his assistant–who was very nice and old enough to be her grandmother–so she knew to show up at his office at two-thirty with the picnic lunch she had gotten for them.  And since the office was empty–thanks to the gourmet mac and cheese truck she had hired to cater lunch for the staff–they got to engaged in some hanky-panky on his office sofa.  

After all, hers was the only vote that counted, and Oliver Queen was known for keeping his constituents happy.

But as it got closer to the time for Oliver to get home, Felicity wondered if she had done enough.  Was her final gift more silly and lame than cheeky and goofy?  Would he see the humor in the situation, or just be reminded that she still wasn’t ready to have kids?

If there was one good thing about what had happened last year, it had made them be better about communicating about what they wanted for their shared futures.  Oliver had opened up to her about his desire to have children–children with her–sharing that he had felt that way ever since he had seen her hold Sara on the day of her birth.  And even though it had hurt her in a way she hadn’t been ready for, she had told Oliver that she wasn’t ready for that yet.  

“Someday, I will be, because … I know you are an amazing father, Oliver, and I know any baby would be lucky– _so_ lucky–to have you as their daddy.   But I have so much I want to do, and I want us to get to enjoy being together, being married, before we jump into parenthood–”  

He had stopped her with a soft, gentle kiss.  “If you’re not ready, we’re not ready,” he had told her, the utter sincerity in his voice and in his eyes convincing her.

Felicity shook her head.  No.  Oliver would understand.  She knew he loved their lives together, loved being married, loved the commitment they had made to each other.  Just because their lives might be short didn’t mean they had to rush.  

And she knew that someday, there would be a little boy or girl running around, one with Oliver’s eyes and her brains, or maybe with her hair and Oliver’s inner strength.  In the last few months, that little person had started to become clearer and clearer in her mental eye.  The day that she could see herself holding that baby–holding Oliver’s baby–she would stop taking birth control and tackle her husband and tell him to knock her up.  

Because they both knew if it was she asking, he would do it.

The sound of the front door opening made Felicity jump.  She hurried to strike the pose she had decided on, standing at the top of the stairs in the bright red silk robe.  

“Oh, Oliver …” she called out in a seductive voice.  Well, as seductive as she could get.  

She heard a soft chuckle.  “Is it time for gifts?” he asked, his voice bouncing around the loft.  “Because I can’t top the tablet from last year, but I do have a very special bottle of wine.”  

There were sounds from the kitchen–getting glasses and the corkscrew, she guessed–and Felicity couldn’t help smiling.  “You didn’t get me another bottle of Chateau Lafitte Rothschild, did you?”

“I did,” Oliver said, not sounding at all sheepish about blowing thousands of dollars on a bottle of wine.  “Now, I don’t have my bow to do that cool uncorking trick, but given that now I could do what I wanted to do then …”

His voice trailed off as he reached the bottom of the stairs and saw her.  She watched as his eyes roamed over her, from her tousled hair to the tips of her very high heels, lingering on her legs.  

“And what did you want to do then that you could do now?” she asked, staying in her pose: one elbow against the wall with her hand in her hair, her other hand tucked behind her back.  

Even from this distance, she could see him swallow.  “I could suck it off your nipples.”  

At his words, she felt her breasts tighten.  Her mouth went dry, and then she nodded.  “Good–good plan.”

He nodded, slowly climbing the stairs, holding the bottle, the glasses, and the corkscrew.  “I thought so.”  

“Well,” she said, trying to make sure she gave him her last gift, “I have something that will go really well with that plan.”  

“Yeah?” Oliver asked, his eyes flashing with amusement and adoration.  

“Uh-huh,” Felicity said, keeping her eyes locked on his.  “The only kind of flowers I thought you’d like.”  

Now he looked confused.  Which truly was one of her favorite Oliver looks.  He just looked so befuddled, with his crinkled brow and slightly narrowed eyes.  “What?”

From behind her back, Felicity withdrew a bouquet of roses.  But not actual roses: red-wrapped condoms, attached to fake stems.  “I almost went with the half-dozen, but then I thought you might feel like I was thinking you were getting old or something, so … a dozen condom roses for you, Mr. Queen, husband of mine.”  

Oliver stared at her, his forehead smoothing out and his head tilting to one side.  And then, just like she hoped, his eyes sparkled and he started laughing.  Laughing so hard that he leaned forward slightly, in order to maintain his balance.  

And that was what Felicity really wanted to give her husband for Valentine’s Day.  Happiness.  Laughter and love and hope, a home and a dream.  

They used two of the roses that night.  But then, Oliver took the remaining ten and put them away.  “I want to use them for other special occasions,” he told her, stroking her sweaty hair back from her face.  

She was too tired and too blissed-out to really think through what that meant, but it didn’t matter to Felicity.  She was just happy that she had made Oliver happy, so she was fine with him doing whatever he wanted with his gift.  

Three years later, a rampaging toddler named Thomas Queen found the remaining condoms and thought they were balloons, handing them over to Oliver in the middle of one of his re-election campaign events.  While Felicity was slightly mortified, Oliver had just hoisted up Tommy, turned to the laughing audience, and said, “I wouldn’t replace my son for anything in the world.  But I’m glad he didn’t arrive until his mother and I were both ready for him.  Which is why one of my campaign pledges is to address the need for better sexual education and health for Star City’s citizens.”

End.


	156. Another engagement party?

_Olicity talking about if they should have another engagement party after the re-engagement_

When the door to the loft opened, Oliver quickly pocketed his phone and went back to chopping the peppers for the chili.  

“Oliver?”  

“In the kitchen,” he called out, hoping he sounded calm, cool and collected.

Because he was.  Because there was absolutely nothing to be worried about.  

Felicity appeared and gave him a wan smile.  “Hi.”  

“What’s wrong?” he asked, frowning at the sight of her slumped shoulders and less-than-perky ponytail.

“Longest day ever.  Breakfast board meetings are evil.  You’d think they’d be great, because anything involving breakfast is automatically great.  But when it’s a board meeting over breakfast, it like … all the amazingness of bagels and coffee and pancakes gets sucked out, and replaced with awful,” Felicity said, walking over and leaning against him.  She pressed her face against the center of his chest, right over the Kiss the Cook apron she had given him for Christmas.  

“The rest of the day was full of meetings, too,” she continued, her voice a bit muffled.  “And then, on the way home, my mom shanghaied my perfectly normal phone call to go off on another wedding planning tear.”  

Donna called Felicity?  Then why had she … 

Oliver didn’t have the time to finish that thought before Felicity lifted her head and gazed up at him.  “This is how much I love you, Oliver Queen: I’m letting my mother plan my wedding twice.”  

Wrapping his arms around her, he held her close to him.  “I’m sorry you had a long day,” he said, his hands starting to massage her shoulders gently.  “Um, if it helps any, Donna sent me several texts today about the engagement party.” 

Felicity frowned.  “Another one?”  

“I think she’s very determined about this,” Oliver said.  “She broke out her best emojis to convince me to try and convince you.”  

“It just seems …” Felicity paused and sighed.  “I love my mother, but ‘tacky’ is the word coming to mind.”  

“I think it’s nice,” Oliver said, still rubbing her shoulders.  “To celebrate that we’ve come back to each other.”  

Under his hands, he could feel her relaxing.  She rested her face against his chest again.  “When you put it like that …”

Dropping a light kiss on the top of her head, Oliver smiled.  “But this time around, I think we should tell your mom what we want.  No feathers, for one thing.”  

She let out a soft giggle.  “And no glitter.”

“That goes without saying,” Oliver said, smiling as he gently tilted her head back so he could see her face.  

“You know, you’re eventually going to have to stop falling for Mom’s emoji tricks,” Felicity said as he closed the distance between them.

“What can I say–I’m a sucker for the Smoak women,” Oliver replied just before his lips met hers.

End.


	157. Felicity, Oliver and Bruce Wayne

_Felicity, Oliver and Bruce Wayne_

“Oliver–Oliver!  You have to calm down.”  

Felicity paced in her hotel room, trying to get ready for her day.  She had her dress on but not zipped, her hair was blow-dried but not back in her ponytail, and she hadn’t even started her makeup yet.  And it was all because of Oliver. 

This business trip to Gotham had come out of the blue, requiring juggling several meetings at Palmer Tech, but it had been worth it.  A meeting with Bruce Wayne, to discuss a potential research agreement between Palmer Tech and Wayne Enterprises, was worth any inconvenience.  Just the thought of getting to work with Lucius Fox made Felicity tingle all over.  

But Oliver had been weird ever since she had called him last night to tell him she was taking the Palmer Tech jet to Gotham.  And he had called her twice this morning and texted her constantly, and she finally had to ask him what was going on.

Once he stopped freaking out.

There was a heavy sigh from the other end of the phone before Oliver spoke.  “I’m sorry.  I just … I’ve always had this–well, Bruce Wayne and I have always been kind of … competitive.  With each other.”  

Sinking down on her bed, she frowned a little.  “Competitive?  Competitive how?”

“Well, you know how it is with billionaire playboys.  Which I am not anymore, but … well, I get around him and it just comes out.”  

“Then maybe it’s good you’re not in Gotham,” Felicity said blithely.  “Look, this meeting is really important to me, Oliver–”

“And you’re going to do so well.  Wayne Enterprises would be lucky to work with Palmer Tech on anything,” Oliver said.

Felicity couldn’t help smiling.  “You are very sweet.  Thank you.  I hope I will.  But to do well, I have to finish getting ready.”  

“Okay, okay,” Oliver replied sheepishly.  “I love you.”  

“I love you, too.  I’ll call you tonight and let you know how it went,” Felicity said, feeling better.  Talking to Oliver always did that.  

“Great.  Can’t wait to hear from you.”  

Later on, Felicity would realize that Oliver still had a note of worry in his voice.  She should have paid attention to that.

XXX

Bruce Wayne had dark hair, the most piercing blue eyes she had ever seen–yes, even more piercing than Oliver’s–and charm coming out of his ears.  

He was totally not her type and he did nothing for her.  But he was trying so hard to sweep her off her feet, Felicity felt bad at even the idea of telling him that it wasn’t working.  So she just went along with him.  

Which is how she found herself agreeing to attend a gala tonight at Wayne Manor.  Although she drew the line at him paying for a gown for her.  

She was a CEO, for Google’s sake!  She could afford a last-minute evening gown.

At least the meeting with Lucius had gone well.  Really, really well, in spite of Bruce popping in twice and totally derailing the meeting.  Felicity had high hopes about coming away from this trip with a signed research agreement.  

And to top if off, she had a really gorgeous gown to wear to the gala tonight.  She wished Oliver could be there–she had texted him when she was shopping at the Riverfront Center for her dress.  He had told her to have fun, and then there had been nothing from him for the rest of the afternoon.  

That wasn’t like Oliver, but then, maybe he just had a busy day.  So Felicity had gotten her gown, had a great meeting, and then come back to her hotel room to get ready for the gala.  

Once her hair and makeup was done, and she was wearing her dress, Felicity gave herself one last look in the mirror.  She had pinned her hair up in a bun, curling a few tendrils to frame her face.  For a change, she had emphasized her eyes, using a lot of mascara and liner and even false eyelashes.  Her dress was a long red sheath, high in the front but with a low back.  A pair of gold heels and a matching clutch completed her outfit, along with a pair of chandelier earrings that Oliver had given her.  

Bruce had arranged for a car to pick her up–which turned out to be a limo.  Felicity had to chuckle a little.  She had told Bruce she was married to Oliver during their get-to-know-you chitchat this morning, and it would appear that it wasn’t just Oliver who got competitive with his fellow billionaire playboy.

Wayne Manor was a big, fancy house, even bigger and fancier than Queen Mansion.  When she stepped inside and handed her wrap over to Bruce’s butler–a very nice British man named Alfred–Felicity started wandering through the party, enjoying some champagne and hors d’oeuvres while doing her best to mingle.  Which was not in her wheelhouse.  She had gotten better at it, but she found herself missing Oliver.  He was so good at smoothing over her babbling and her faux pas.

“Felicity!”

The sound of Bruce’s voice made Felicity paste on a smile.  “Hi, Bruce.  Thank you for inviting me,” she said, accepting the kiss he pressed to her cheek.  

“My pleasure.  You brighten up this party with your glowing presence,” he said, smiling at her.  “Let me introduce you to a few people.  I apologize for letting you work the room on your own.  Have you met my good friend Kate Kane?  I think you’d like her.  But she is bound to lobby you for a donation to the Gotham Jewish Women’s League, so I do hope you won’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Felicity said with a smile.  She slid her hand into the crook of Bruce’s arm and let him maneuver her around the party, introducing her to several people–including Kate, who she _did_ like.  

But while it was good to meet the movers and shakers of Gotham, and she was pretty sure this was going to be very good for Palmer Tech, she hoped Bruce wasn’t getting ideas.  He was being very attentive, and she just … she missed Oliver.

And then, suddenly, the crowd parted for a moment and she thought she saw–

“I’m sorry, Bruce, I need to go … there,” she said, interrupting a story Bruce was telling about Monte Carlo and winning big at baccarat–a story she was pretty sure was lifted from a Bond movie.  

Pulling away from Bruce, Felicity fought her way through the hordes of people that were blocking her way from the one person she wanted to see.  Because she could have sworn that she saw her husband at the doorway of the ballroom.  

Right now, all she wanted was Oliver.  

As she got closer, she could see that his tuxedo looked very rumpled.  But he was smiling so brightly at her, Felicity couldn’t help smiling back, even though she knew she should be mad for him to coming to Gotham just to continue this weird game of one-up-manship with Bruce Wayne.  

“So, you came to Gotham,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“I did.  Because I knew Bruce would totally turn on the charm and try to make you fall under his spell,” Oliver said, his own hands resting lightly on her hips.  

“Mmmm, he did try,” Felicity acknowledged, looking up at Oliver.  “But the thing is, his approach was so weird.  He tried complimenting me, offering to buy me things … he didn’t go with the things that were bound to work on me.”

Oliver’s eyebrows raised and he pulled her closer.  “Like what?”

“Lies that are utterly ridiculous, treating me like a full partner, working out shirtless–”  

Felicity wasn’t able to get to the really important things, like looking at her like she was the center of his world, respecting her, growing to trust her after years of not trusting anyone, and fighting for her like no one else ever had.  Because Oliver started kissing her, and that made everything float away.

“Oliver?  Oliver Queen?  How good to see you!  Although wow, you’re whipped, coming all the way to Gotham to spend time with your wife!”  

Bruce’s voice interrupted one of the top ten best kisses she had ever shared with Oliver, which made her cranky.  Thank God Oliver was here to deal with Bruce.  Because he put on a charming playboy smile and turned to Bruce.  

“With how amazing and beautiful my wife is, coming to Gotham is the easiest thing I’ve ever done for her,” Oliver said, extending one hand to Bruce as he wrapped the other one around Felicity.  “Another great party, Bruce.  I hope you don’t mind me crashing it.”  

“Not at all, Oliver.  Always good to see you,” Bruce said, shaking Oliver’s hand heartily.  “And can I just say, your wife is a delight!”  

Felicity could tell that this was bound to go on all night if she didn’t step in.  So putting on a sweet smile, she looked at Bruce.  “Bruce, this party is wonderful, but I would really like to take my husband back to my hotel room and tear all his clothes off.  You should just see his abs.”  

With her hand on his back, Felicity could feel Oliver shudder with the laughter he didn’t want to let out.  But she didn’t look at him; she just kept looking at Bruce with the same smile on her face.  

So she could see how Bruce’s face fell for a moment before he nodded.  “Of course, of course!  Enjoy yourselves, you two.”  

He sounded like he wanted to be amused, but in truth, he sounded a bit hurt that Felicity wasn’t falling all over him.  Thank God Lucius had cornered her earlier and told her that she shouldn’t worry–Wayne Enterprises would be signing a research agreement with Palmer Tech.

“Oh, we will,” Oliver said, giving Bruce a wink and making Felicity bite her lower lip to hold back her laughter.  

XXX

“Is it wrong that I kind of want you and Bruce to hang out more?” Felicity asked, coming up for air as the limo took them back to her hotel.  

Oliver smiled at her, his hair disheveled and his shirt unbuttoned.  “No.  Although you might get your wish in a way you couldn’t imagine.”  

Felicity frowned, looking at him.  “What do you mean?”

Her husband, the man who kept no secrets from her, smiled slowly.  “Felicity, Bruce Wayne is Batman.”  

“WHAT?!?”

End.


	158. Donna sees Oliver's scars for the first time

_Donna catches Oliver and Felicity making out, Oliver without his shirt on, which is embarrassing at first but quickly turns serious when Donna sees Oliver's scars for the first time._

(Set after 4x06)

Donna hummed to herself as she walked down the hallway of Felicity and Oliver’s building.  The last few days had been difficult, yes: seeing the tension between her daughter and the man she loved wasn’t easy.  Not when Donna could see, so clearly, how much they loved each other and how they were letting their fears and doubts get in the way.  

Well, hopefully the two of them had made up from their fight.  And that nice Quentin she had met last night had been an unexpected benefit to getting kicked out of the loft. 

So today was a new day, one that was bright and happy.  

Using the key that Felicity had given her, Donna let herself into the loft.  “Felicity?  Oliver?” she called out, her heels clicking on the floors.  

There was a loud yelp from the kitchen, followed by a clatter and the sound of someone landing heavily, and Donna dashed towards the room.  “Did someone fall over?” she asked, feeling worried.

But what she saw outstripped her worry and made even Donna Smoak feel flustered and embarrassed.  

Because there was some dishes on the floor, along with a hooded sweatshirt that could only belong to Oliver.  Felicity was standing in front of Oliver, her hair full-on bedhead and the clear mark of a hickey on her neck.  

And unless she missed her guess, both of their pants were riding awfully low for two people who were supposedly preparing something to eat.  

Well, Oliver must have been getting ready to eat someone, Donna thought, feeling her cheeks flush.  Because it was one thing to talk to her daughter about sex.  It was something else to nearly interrupt it in progress.

“Well, I–I didn’t think I’d be interrupting now …” Donna said, stumbling a bit over her words.  

“It’s okay, Donna,” Oliver said, giving her a smile that was almost real.  “Let me just get …”

He stepped around Felicity, bending over to pick up his hoodie, and Donna thought her eyes were going to pop out of her head.

“Oh my God, Oliver!”

“What?” he said, stopping mid-bend and looking at her.  

But Donna was too speechless to do anything but walk over and push Oliver back to a standing position, because she needed to know if she had really seen what she thought she had saw.  

Of course Donna knew that Oliver had been on a deserted island for five years.  She lived in Vegas, not on the moon.  And Felicity had talked a little about how Oliver had suffered physically over the years he had been gone.  But this … this was beyond anything Donna had imagined.

Certainly he was gorgeous.  But the amount of damage on his chest–the signs of slashes and stabs and–”Oh my God, are those _teeth marks_?!?”

“Mom,” Felicity said, stepping between Donna and Oliver again.  But while before it was probably to hide whatever had been going on in Oliver’s pants, this time … this time, Felicity was protecting Oliver.  

That helped break the spell, and Donna swallowed.  “I’m so sorry, Oliver–I had no idea, I didn’t realize–”

“Mom,” her daughter repeated, but Oliver put a hand on Felicity’s shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Oliver told her softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.  Then he looked at Donna, his face open and his eyes honest.  Not showing any embarrassment over the condition of his body.  Not ashamed or beaten down by what he had suffered.  Just … accepting of his past pain and the marks it had left on him.   

In that moment, Donna realized why she had always felt like Felicity was safe with Oliver.  Because he had clearly been through so much–the very limits of what a human could experience and survive.

And he was willing to do it all again, if it kept her daughter safe.  

Donna knew she was tearing up, but she put a big smile on her face.  “I’m just going to go.  Let you two kids finish making up–you have made up, right?”

Oliver grinned and Felicity blushed as she nodded.  

“That’s so great!” Donna said, smiling at them both.  “What did I tell you?  Best part of fighting.”  

“Mom!”  

Waving her hand, Donna turned to leave.  “I’ll see you later!”

Later, after she had called and made sure it was safe to come in.  Because no matter how beautiful her baby was or how hot Oliver was, there were some things a mother shouldn’t see.

End.


	159. Daddy is a princess!

_Olicity takes their kids to Disney World and their daughter is totally obsessed with the princesses. Cue Prince Daddy!Oliver_

Oliver shepherded the boys into the suite they had booked at one of the Disney World hotels, wondering where they got so much energy.  And then he saw his wife and daughter jumping on the bed, and the answer was clear to him.  

 “Okay, okay, I think that if we’re going to see the parade tonight, we need naps,” Oliver said, scooping up Ella mid-jump.  “Tommy, Johnny, let’s go.”  

Felicity beamed at him, falling to the bed.  “Don’t worry, kids, Daddy and me are gonna take a nap, too.” 

A naked nap, if Oliver had his way.  Because with three kids, he took advantage of any alone time he had with Felicity.  

Getting everyone bedded down for naps wasn’t as hard as he thought: Johnny had been yawning on the way back to the room, and Ella seemed to have used up the last of her energy with the jumping.  Only Tommy refused to nap, saying he was nine and didn’t need one.  But Oliver convinced his oldest that he had to set a good example for his sister and brother, and Tommy was finally willing to lay down with a comic book.  

Which let Oliver get back to his very beautiful wife. 

Who, as soon as he walked into their room, looked at him and said, “Thank God, now I can tell you what Ella did earlier.”  

Since the boys had wanted to ride roller coasters, and Felicity and Ella both had nervous stomachs when it came to going upside down, they had split up for the afternoon.  While he took the boys on Space Mountain four times in a row, Felicity was taking Ella to a tea party with the costumed princesses.  

But if Felicity wanted to talk, he knew it was important.  So he flopped down on the bed beside her and reached out for her hand.  “How was tea with the princesses?”

“It was _awful_.”  

“Awful?”  Oliver frowned, trying to figure out what might had happened.  “Did Ella break a tea cup or something?”

“Nooooooo,” Felicity said, lifting her glasses and rubbing her eyes.  “Way worse.  Ella was like, _obsessed_ with the princesses.  She spent the whole tea talking about which princess she wanted to be, based on the prettiness of her dress and the color of her hair.  Like, she liked Sleeping Beauty’s dress, but Cinderella’s name is like hers, but she likes Ariel’s songs best, and–”  

Felicity broke off and groaned.  “I thought, if I ever had a daughter–which for a long time, I wasn’t sure would ever happen, because who would want to marry a giant nerd like me?–that she would be like me.  Her heroes would be Grace Hopper and Madeleine Albright.  And if she had to like a princess, it would be Princess Leia, all the way.  I would be _fine_ with Ella idolizing Princess Leia!  Hell, _I_ still idolize Princess Leia!  But no, Ella wants to be a _Disney_ Princess.” 

“Doesn’t Disney own Star Wars now?  So isn’t Princess Leia a Disney Princess now?” Oliver pointed out.

“Stop using logic to try and calm me down,” Felicity pouted.

Oliver laughed and wrapped an arm around Felicity.  “Baby, Ella is four.  She’s going through a phase.  Like how Johnny wanted to be a cowboy, or Tommy wanted to learn everything about dinosaurs.”

“I just … I want her to be strong.  To never be a damsel in distress.  To know she can rescue herself,” Felicity said, curling in against him.  

“She is,” he said, kissing the top of Felicity’s head.  “She knows all of that, because she’s her mother’s daughter.”  

“Flatterer,” Felicity replied, craning her head back to look up at him.

He shook his head.  “Nope.  Our daughter is amazing, and a lot of that is due to you.”

Felicity gazed at him, then reached out and ran a hand through his hair.  “And you.  Fifty percent of her is you.”

Leaning down, Oliver kissed her softly, then brushed his nose against hers.  “Ella will grow up into a smart, strong woman.  Even if she keeps liking Disney Princesses.”  

With all that strength that he knew she had, Felicity rolled him onto his back and straddled him.  “You are amazing, Oliver Queen.”

“Oh, yeah?” he said, grinning up at her.  

She nodded.  “Let me show you all the ways.”  

So in the end, they got their naked nap.

XXX

“Daddy!  Daddy, look, it’s ELSA!”  

Ella’s voice approached a pitch that Oliver didn’t think was possible for humans to achieve.  And she was showing a lot more strength than he realized his four-year-old daughter had.  

Tugging harder on his hand, Ella pulled Oliver over towards Princess Elsa, bouncing excitedly.  Her pigtails danced, a huge smile on her face, and all Oliver could think was that this was what Felicity might have been like as a little girl.  Although she was probably getting excited over a computer to take apart than a princess.  

Which is why he crouched down and said, “Ella Bear?”

“Yes, Daddy?” she said distractedly, her eyes not leaving Elsa.  

He rubbed her back.  “Why do you like the princesses?”  

Ella frowned and looked up at him.  “Because they’re good.  They help people and make everything better.  Just like Mommy.”  

Slowly, Oliver smiled.  It was nice to realize just how right he had been yesterday.  And how right Ella was.  

Because if his daughter could see her mother as a princess, Oliver had no problem with Ella going through a princess phase.

“That’s right, Ella Bear,” he said, kissing the top of her head.  “Mommy’s a princess, too.  And when we’re done here, we’re gonna go get her something that is from her favorite princess.”  

Ella clapped.  “Yay!  Mommy’s a princess, and I’m a princess, and you’re a princess, Daddy!”

Oliver opened his mouth to argue, but then he just grinned and shook his head.  “Okay, Ella.  I’m a princess, too.”

End.


	160. A new allergy for Felicity

_Oliver wants to make some obscure dish for Felicity and, long story short, nuts aren't the only thing she's allergic to. (Nothing deadly! I know allergic reactions are serious, but I want fluff not an angsty hospital visit. And a lot of everyone giving Oliver a hard time for it.)_

With a small, pleased smile, Oliver lifted the pork tenderloin from the grill. This was the centerpiece for their first meal in their new house, so he wanted everything to be perfect for the dinner he would be serving as soon as Felicity got home from work.

Their new house. A house they had picked out together. A place where they argued over where to put the couch, and picked out new towels for their bathroom, and just … made into a home. 

So this first dinner would set the tone for the rest of their lives together, really. He had poured over recipes, looking for something that would satisfy both his healthy approach and Felicity’s sweet tooth. After a few hours, and reviewing what was available at the local farmer’s market, he had picked grilled pork with a peach and ginger marinade, along with fresh green beans and a rice pilaf. Along with a chilled Zinfandel, it was the perfect dinner. 

Carrying the pork into the house, Oliver let the meat rest while he finished the sauce and blanched the beans. Just as he was putting the last ingredients into the pilaf, he heard the sound of Felicity’s key in the door and couldn’t help smiling. 

“Honey, I’m home!” Felicity called out, her voice full of joy and happiness. 

He stepped into the hall that gave him a clear view of his wife, stepping into their home, and felt his smile widen.

“Welcome home,” he said softly, walking towards her to meet her halfway. Leaning down, he kissed her softly, wrapping an arm around her. 

“Mmmmmm,” Felicity murmured against his lips. “Something smells good. And I’m not just talking about you.”

Chuckling, he kissed her cheek. “I made dinner. There’s just enough time for you to change if you want.” 

Felicity ran her hands down his chest. “Mr. Mayor, your constituents want to know why you took the afternoon off to cook dinner for your wife.” 

“I don’t have constituents, I have a constituent,” Oliver said, brushing his nose against hers. “You are still the only vote that counts.” 

“You keep talking like that, our dinner’s gonna go cold,” Felicity replied regretfully, pulling back. “And I’m starving–for food. Not that I’m not starving for you, too, but I just–you know, I put something in my vows about you stopping me when I do that for a reason, Oliver!”

“I’ll have your wine ready when you’ve changed,” he said, kissing her lightly and smiling at her. 

With a pout, Felicity turned and headed towards their bedroom. Because it was one of his pleasures to watch Felicity’s ass move, he watched her go, then returned to the kitchen.

XXX

Everything was perfect. Each of their plates had slices of pork, drizzled with the ginger-peach sauce, accompanied by piles of green beans and rice pilaf. Felicity had joined him as he was plating everything, sipping her wine and watching him with eyes filled with warmth and contentment. 

When he set her plate down in front of her, Felicity’s eyes widened. “Wow. This looks amazing.” 

Ducking his head a little, Oliver sat down. “I hope you like it. It’s a new recipe.” 

She beamed at him. “I love you.”

“Because I cooked something new?” he asked with a grin, lifting his knife and fork to cut into a slice of pork. 

“No, because you’re always taking care of me,” she said softly, gazing at him. 

It wasn’t like Felicity didn’t give him plenty of compliments, plenty of reasons for why she loved him. But this made his stomach flutter, and it was impossible to not lean over the table to kiss her lightly. 

Felicity kissed him back, then pulled away and picked up her silverware. “So how was your day?”

“Well … it all started with a call from the Parks Department,” Oliver said, beginning a story that ended with him agreeing to lead a wilderness survival experience for teenage boys. But right around the point where the third of the boys that would be helped by this program was speaking about the importance of wilderness survival, Oliver noticed that something seemed wrong with Felicity.

She seemed to be wheezing a little, and the skin around her lips was red and flushed. 

“Felicity?” he said, dropping his silverware and standing up. “Baby?”

Her eyes were wide and scared behind her glasses. “Nuts …”

“There’s no nuts in this, Felicity–your allergy was one of the first thing I learned about you,” he said in confusion. But then he realized what she meant.

She must be allergic to something in the dinner. 

“I’m taking you to the ER,” he said, bending down to scoop her up in his arms.

XXX

Oliver opened the door to Digg and Thea, each of them carrying a bouquet of flowers and big smiles. 

Sighing, he stood back so they could come in. “Felicity’s fine. Just a minor birch-pollen allergy that she didn’t know she had, one that was triggered by the peaches in the sauce I served at dinner last night.”

“Good job, bro,” Thea said, patting his chest. 

“She didn’t know she was allergic! And she’s not even allergic to peaches,” Oliver protested, looking at Digg for backup. 

Backup he wasn’t going to get, if the smile on Digg’s face was anything to go by. “Didn’t you say a few weeks ago that you didn’t know if there was anything you didn’t know about your wife? And that you loved everything about her?”

“I was full of hubris,” Oliver said. “I should never have thought I knew everything about Felicity–but I still love everything about her.” He paused and rolled his shoulders. “Even her previously unknown allergy.”

Digg laughed and rested a hand on his shoulder. “That’s good to hear, Oliver. I’m glad you’re not doing that guilty brooding thing. Thinking that you should have known and that it’s all your fault.” 

“Well, it was my fault. Felicity pointed that out when she got a shot from a really long needle.”

He could hear how glum his voice sounded, especially in contrast with Digg and Thea’s laughter.

XXX

“Wow. You don’t have broody face on.” 

Oliver raised an eyebrow. “Do you wish I did?” he asked as he came into their bedroom after showing Digg and Thea out. 

“Of course not. I don’t like broody Oliver very much,” Felicity said, holding her hand out to him. “I love him, of course, but I don’t like him very much.” 

Smiling a little, Oliver walked over to take her hand, before sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I know. So that’s why I’m trying not to brood.” 

Felicity tilted her head to one side. “But you’re still upset about something. What’s going on?” 

Of course she knew what he was thinking. Oliver gave her a small, sheepish smile. “I just … I wanted dinner to be perfect. It was our first dinner in our new house.” 

That wrinkle appeared on Felicity’s forehead, the one she got when she was confused. “No, it wasn’t.”

“It wasn’t?” Oliver asked, feeling confused.

“We ordered pizza for everyone to thank them for helping us move,” Felicity pointed out. “And we both had slices. So that was our first dinner. Surrounded by our friends and family, feeling a bit tired and achy, but happy. Really, really happy.”

He opened his mouth to argue with her, but then he closed it. Because … she was right. And that meant there was no point in arguing with her. So Oliver just looked at her and smiled. 

Tugging on her hand, Felicity pulled him towards her. “I love that you wanted to have the perfect dinner. But we already had it. This house is a home because you and me are here, and it’s perfect.” 

Felicity yawned, then pouted. “Stupid Benedryl. I was planning to wrap this up with propositioning you.”

With a laugh, Oliver leaned in and kissed her forehead. “Get some sleep, honey. I’ll give you a rain check for the sex.” 

“You better,” Felicity said, her eyes closing. 

End.


	161. Oliver and Felicity meet Chuck and Sarah in a weird way

_Oliver and Felicity meet Chuck and Sarah in a weird way_

 

Sarah Walker sat quietly in the waiting room, flipping through a six months old copy of Cosmopolitan.  Not that she was actually reading it–she was just using it as cover for her observation of the room.  And to keep her mind off worrying about Chuck, who was getting a MRI right now.  The only reason she was out here was because she couldn’t be in the exam room, thanks to being three months pregnant.  

Rubbing a hand over her stomach, Sarah sighed.  She didn’t think she had done that too loudly, but the only other occupant of the room–a pretty blonde woman with glasses, her hair drawn back in a ponytail, gave her a weak smile.  “As many times as I’ve waited to find out if my husband is okay, I’ve never gotten used to it,” the other woman said in a friendly manner.  

“Yeah,” Sarah said softly, looking towards the door that led back to the exam rooms.  Normally, it would be Chuck out here and her getting examined; that was how it normally worked out for them.  

The woman twitched the skirt of her dress and looked towards the same door Sarah had just been looking.  Then she took a deep breath and looked at Sarah with a smile.  “So why are you here?”

“My husband’s accident-prone,” Sarah said, unable to not smile when she thought of Chuck, even with the current circumstances.  “And he’s got this really irritating hero complex.”  

“Oh, do I know about that,” the other woman said, rolling her eyes.  Her reaction was just so Chuck that Sarah felt her worrying kick up a notch, even though the doctor had assured them that Chuck was fine and the MRI was purely precautionary.

Something about the other woman put Sarah at ease, in a way that was similar to Chuck.  She smiled a little.  “How about you?  What brings you to this waiting room?”

“My fiance burned himself trying to make Bananas Foster.  He used a bit too much brandy,” the woman shared, looking around as if her fiance was going to sneak up behind her and hear her disparaging him.  “But it was his first try, and normally he’s an amazing cook.   _So_ amazing–he’s determined to make me not fit into any of my clothes, so he can keep me naked all the time.”  The woman’s cheeks flushed. 

Sarah couldn’t help chuckling.  This woman was so disarming, Sarah couldn’t help feeling comfortable.  “Hi, I’m Sarah,” she said with a smile.

“Felicity.  It’s nice to meet you, Sarah.”  Felicity smiled, too, and shrugged her shoulders.  “Do you live here in Star City?”

“No, we came here for work,” Sarah answered, thinking of their work tracking a Chinese terrorist with links to the Triad, using the Star City port to ship in a bomb that could have wiped out the Internet.  

“Oh, I hope you get a chance to do some sightseeing.  Star City is a great place to visit, although I know the tourism board has had trouble convincing people of that.  But my fiance is working on that!  He’s the new mayor, y’know.” 

Felicity’s face lit up when she talked about her fiance and it made Sarah smile.  “When are you getting married?”

“Six months,” Felicity said, a shadow of something flickering through her eyes too quickly for Sarah to figure it out. 

“Congratulations,” she said, meaning it.

Before Felicity could say anything else, there was the sound of the door opening, and both women’s heads turned to see who it was.  

Sarah smiled brightly when she saw Chuck step through the door, looking a bit wan and tired, but otherwise whole and safe and hers.  “Hey.  Everything okay?”

He nodded and walked over to her, bending down to kiss her cheek.  “Yeah.  That doctor is a worrywart–I didn’t really need a MRI.”

“ _Chuck_?  Chuck Bartowski?!?”

Turning her head, Sarah looked at Felicity, who was staring at her husband like she had seen a ghost.  And then, suddenly, Chuck was looking at Felicity and practically beaming.  

“Felicity Smoak, I do declare!” he exclaimed, walking over to her and scooping her up in a big, feet-lifting-the-ground hug.  

Sarah couldn’t help staring as Felicity laughed, hugging Chuck tightly.  “Oh my God, I can’t believe it’s you!  How did you get so tall?  And whoa, what’s with the muscles?  The last time I saw you, you were this scrawny, five-foot-six guy!”

Chuck laughed as he set Felicity down on her feet.  “The last time I saw _you_ , you were a Goth!”  

“Guilty,” Felicity said with a grin before she gave Chuck a friendly shove.  “What are you doing here?  The last I heard, you were kicking ass at Stanford–which is no MIT, which is why you were kicking ass–and then, nothing.”

“It’s a long story,” Chuck said, rubbing the back of his neck.  “A really, really long story.  But one I’d love to tell you.”  

“How long are you in town?”  

Wanting to stop this runaway train of a conversation before it was totally out of her reach, Sarah got up from her chair and stepped over to Chuck’s side.  “Honey?”

Chuck immediately wrapped an arm around her.  “Hey, you okay?”  

“I’m fine, I’m just wondering who your friend is,” Sarah said, leaning against his side a little.  

Both Chuck and Felicity laughed.  “You don’t have anything to worry about, Sarah,” Felicity said with a grin.  

“Yeah, exactly–me and Felicity were always just friends.  We met at computer camp when we were kids,” Chuck said, rubbing a hand over Sarah’s back.  “We were the nerds of the camp.”

“Which is saying something, considering we were at computer camp,” Felicity said with a grin.

Nodding, Sarah looked from Chuck to Felicity and back again.  It wasn’t that she doubted Chuck or Felicity.  She could totally see them meeting as teenagers at computer camp.  It was just so eye-opening, after knowing Chuck for so long, to realize there were still things she didn’t know about him.  Like how he went to computer camp as a kid.  Or that he knew–

“Wait a minute–Felicity Smoak?  CEO of Palmer Technologies?” Sarah asked, looking at the bespectacled blonde.  

“That’s me!” Felicity said with a smile.  

Sarah exchanged a look with Chuck.  The CIA had plenty of information about Felicity Smoak, since she had a connection with the Green Arrow, Star City’s own vigilante.  A vigilante who had had numerous dealings with the Triad over the years.  

The door from the exam rooms opened again and Felicity suddenly vanished from Sarah’s line of sight.  Both she and Chuck turned, seeing Felicity wrapping her arms around the neck of–

“Oliver Queen.  Holy shit,” Chuck muttered under his breath.  “Man, if only time travel was real.  I’d love to go back in time and tell fifteen-year-old Felicity she was going to land _him_.”

“Would you also tell yourself who you were going to land?” Sarah asked with a smirk.

Chuck grinned at her.  “You bet.”  

Chuckling, Sarah took the lead, walking over to Felicity and Oliver.  “Now it’s time for us to meet your significant other,” Sarah said.

Felicity turned, a wide smile on her face.  “Of course!  Oliver, this is my old friend Chuck Bartowski–we went to computer camp together.  And this is his wife Sarah.  My fiance, Oliver Queen.”

“Hi,” Oliver said, his eyes flicking from Chuck to Sarah.  Sarah noticed how his eyes took them both in, devoting the same amount of time on both of them.  “It’s nice to meet you both.”  

“Are you feeling okay?” Felicity asked Oliver.  “Because I’d love to catch up with Chuck …”

“I’m fine,” Oliver said, giving Felicity a warm smile, his eyes going soft as he looked at her.  “I told you I didn’t need to get checked out …”

His fiance shook her head, her smile just as loving.  “Nope.  Burns get checked out by the professionals.”  

So what didn’t get checked out by the professionals, Sarah wondered.  Felicity apparently realized her slip, because she turned and started talking a mile a minute to Chuck, leaving Sarah to look at Oliver and smile.

“Hi,” she said, her eyes taking him in.  For a former playboy, former billionaire, and newly-elected mayor, Oliver Queen had an enviable physique.  Sure, he probably had gotten into the habit while on that deserted island for five years, but he had been back for nearly five years.  He must have a reason for keeping all that muscle.

Like being the Green Arrow.

But that wasn’t something you brought up with someone you had just met–”Hey, you’re pretty much a superhero and we could use your help preventing the destruction of the world.”

At the very least, Sarah wanted to wait until after dinner.  So she smiled at Oliver.  “I think we’ve lost our partners for the time being.  How about we talk about where to go to dinner and see how long it takes them to notice we’ve led them to a restaurant?”

Oliver huffed out a laugh and smiled at her.  “I shouldn’t say this, but my money isn’t on Felicity.  She’s not as observant as she should be.”

“That’s okay–Chuck can be kind of oblivious.  It took him nearly two years to realize I was crazy about him,” Sarah said, returning his smile.

And when Oliver really laughed this time, Sarah felt like this dinner was going to be fun.  Not to mention beneficial for the case she and Chuck was working on.

End.


	162. Oliver buying a pregnancy test for a Felicity who thinks she couldn't possibly be pregnant, but he just KNOWS she is and is trying to prove it.

_Oliver buying a pregnancy test for a Felicity who thinks she couldn't possibly be pregnant, but he just KNOWS she is and is trying to prove it._

He didn’t think it was possible for Felicity to be more amused.  But Oliver was pretty sure she was covering her annoyance with amusement.  

“Oliver, I think I’d know if I was pregnant.”  

“So why not take a test to be sure?” he asked, glancing at her before returning his attention to the shelves in front of them.  “There are more options than I thought there would be.”  

Felicity rolled her eyes.  “It doesn’t matter how many options there are, because we don’t need a pregnancy test.  Because I’m not pregnant.”

“I just … I have a feeling, Felicity,” he said, pulling his eyes away and turning to face her.  

“What is this feeling?  What feeling could trump _actual_ symptoms, like me puking every morning?  Which I haven’t been doing.”  Felicity folded her arms over her chest, looking cocky.  

But Oliver knew Felicity Megan Smoak-Queen better than anyone else.  Better than he knew himself.  So he caught the tiny, negligible wince as her arms pressed against her breasts.  And he just knew he was right.

“Your breasts are tender,” he said.  “Don’t try and tell me they aren’t.”  

“How did you … you know, I’m not going to ask that in the middle of the pharmacy section at Target,” Felicity said, her cheeks flushing.  

Oliver couldn’t help grinning at her.  “Tender breasts are a symptom of pregnancy.”

“Or my period starting,” Felicity said mulishly.  

“But it isn’t, is it?” Oliver asked, stepping closer to her.  Gazing into her eyes, wanting her to talk to him.  To stop being afraid.  Because no matter what, they would face it together.

He knew Felicity knew that.  He could see it in her eyes when she realized that.  And when she reached out and wrapped her fingers around his, Oliver smiled at her.  “Okay?” he asked softly.

She nodded.  “Yeah.  Just … this might be it.  We–we might be pregnant.”

God, that sounded … it sounded so good.  Like everything he had ever wanted, rolled up in one sentence.   _We might be pregnant_.

“So how about we find out?” Oliver asked, squeezing her hand.

With a smile, her eyes shining behind her glasses, Felicity nodded.  “Yeah.  Yeah, let’s find out.”  She turned and looked at the shelves, then shook her head and started grabbing one of each test.

Oliver watched her, his eyebrows going up.  “Um, baby, we only need one test.”

“Wrong.  We’ll want to take at least two, maybe three, just to make sure.  And–and if we’re not pregnant,” Felicity said, pushing her glasses up, “we’ll go back to practicing and eventually we’re bound to need a test again, so … so might as well stock up, right?”  

To think, two and a half years ago, he had watched Felicity with Sara Diggle and thought he would never have that with her.  That thought–that she would never bear his child–had occurred to him a lot over the years, yet he had never stopped hoping in it.  Never stopped believing in it.  And now … he might actually get it.  If not today, soon.  

And Oliver’s heart was too full of love to do anything but cup her face in his hands and kiss her slowly and softly, pouring every bit of his love into her.

(Although when it turned out that he _was_ right, that Felicity _was_ pregnant, Oliver couldn’t help rubbing it in.)


	163. The phone call Oliver made to Barry Allen to re-invite him to be Felicity's plus one at the event at the Queen Mansion

_The phone call Oliver made to Barry Allen to re-invite him to be Felicity's plus one at the event at the Queen Mansion_

Pacing a little, Oliver waited for someone to pick up at the other end of line.  Not someone, though–Barry Allen.  He was waiting for the young forensic scientist to pick up, so Oliver could re-ask him out on behalf of Felicity.

Why was he doing this again?  Yes, Barry’s motives seemed good, but there was something about their Central City visitor that set Oliver’s teeth on edge.

But when he compared his tight jaw to the kick in the stomach he had felt when Felicity had looked on the verge of tears …

“Hello?”

“Barry?” Oliver asked, just making sure that the number he had called was correct.  He had only had a split-second with Felicity’s phone to get Barry’s number, thanks to Digg distracting Felicity earlier.

“Um, yes, this is Barry.  Oliver?  Why … why are you calling me?”  Barry sounded confused, which was understandable.  

Oliver took a deep breath.   _You want Felicity to be happy_.  

“After what happened earlier today … I wanted to say that you are still welcome to accompany Felicity to the Queen function tonight,” Oliver said, hearing how stiff his words were–some product of long-ago etiquette classes resurfacing.  “I–I think she would like you to be there.”

There was a long silence.  Long enough that Oliver had to hope that Barry was going through a tunnel and had lost cell phone service.  Because you had to pass through a tunnel when you took the train from Starling City to Central City.

“And what about you?”

He frowned.  “What about me?”

“Are you sure you didn’t want to be the one to accompany Felicity?”  

_Yes_.  “No … no, that’s not the kind of relationship I have with Felicity.  She and I, we’re just–”

It was on the tip of his tongue to say ‘friends’.  Which they were.  Of a kind.  The type of friends who didn’t know each other’s birthdays, but who would do anything for each other, anything to protect one another and keep them safe.

But friendship wasn’t enough to describe the place Felicity had in his life.  Because … she was his right hand.  His point of reference.  His light.  

“We just work together,” Oliver finally said.  

“Mmm-hmmm,” Barry hummed.  “Okay, if you say so, Oliver.  So you’re really okay with me coming tonight?”

Gritting his teeth again, Oliver said, “I am.”

“And … and you think Felicity still wants that?”  The confidence in Barry’s voice had vanished at the mention of what Felicity wanted.  Which Oliver understood.

“I’m sure of it,” Oliver replied, reminding himself that he was doing this for Felicity.

There was another silence and then Barry said, “Okay.  I might be a little late, though.”  

“That’s fine,” Oliver said, the warring emotions making his voice sound raspy.  Because he knew it would make Felicity happy, to have Barry’s company for at least part of the event.  But … 

_Because of the life I lead, I just think it’s best not to be with someone I could really care about_.

“We’ll see you when you arrive,” Oliver continued quickly.  “Thank you, Barry.”

“You’re welcome, Oliver,” Barry said.  “See you soon.”

Barry hung up the phone and Oliver did the same, sliding his phone into the pocket of his pants.  Then he looked at himself in the mirror and went to work on his bow tie.  

This was for the best.  Lately he had felt too much when he was around Felicity.  He knew she had some kind of crush on him, and he did his best not to give her hope.  But in the last few months, ever since she and Digg had brought him back from Lian Yu, he couldn’t seem to control his reactions around her.  

So Barry Allen’s arrival in Felicity’s life was the perfect solution.  He could help Felicity get past her crush and give her everything that Oliver couldn’t.  And if Felicity started smiling when she talked about Barry, making trips to Central City to see him, learning that she could have it all …

It would make it easier when she decided it was time to leave.  Because she would.  Felicity wanted more than working in a damp, dark basement.  She deserved more.  

She deserved things that Oliver couldn’t give her.  And the sooner she learned that, the sooner he would stop wishing he could give her those things.

Grimacing, Oliver realized his bow tie was too tight, and he yanked at it to try again.  He had a party to host.

End.


	164. A Sabrina Olicity AU

_A Sabrina Olicity AU_

It was all Felicity Smoak could do not to dance around like a little girl.  Or give a fist pump.  Because here she was, wearing an evening gown that was strapless with yards of skirt, attending one of the Merlyn parties that she had grown up watching from her spot in a tree overlooking the back patio of the Merlyn mansion.  Here she was, the maid’s daughter, standing in the place of so many of the debutantes from Starling City’s best families, waiting for Tommy Merlyn to arrive and sweep her off her feet.

Felicity lifted her fist in the air and said, “Yes!”

Okay, so she couldn’t hold back the fist pump.  But given how tonight all her dreams were coming true, Felicity thought she could be forgiven a fist pump.

Ever since she was a gawky pre-teen, with glasses and brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, Felicity had been in love with Tommy Merlyn.  With his dark hair and dancing blue eyes, his wide white smile and ready laugh, his broad shoulders and graceful movements … he was perfect.  Four years older than Felicity and the subject of her worshiping, unacknowledged gaze, Tommy had charmed his way through high school and in and out of several colleges.  And several marriages, as well.  

But three years ago, Felicity had received the opportunity of a lifetime: an all-expenses paid scholarship to MIT, complete with a fellowship advised by Sir Tim Berners-Lee.  It had been a dream come true–but it meant leaving home as a young, inexperienced seventeen-year-old, moving across the country and leaving behind her mother, her best friends Caitlyn and Iris … and Tommy.  

Donna Smoak had encouraged Felicity to go, to be more than a servant in a rich family’s house.  Even if she had also hoped that Felicity would catch the eye of Tommy and become wife number four–to the point where she had tried to help Felicity with her hair, encouraging her to trade in her glasses and panda flats for contacts and high heels.  

Totally lacking in confidence, Felicity wasn’t able to take her mother’s advice.  But her three years in Boston had been good for her.  She had learned a lot–and not just in the classroom.  Now with a master’s in cybersecurity and computer systems, suitcases of bright, colorful dresses, and a new attitude, she had returned to Starling City to begin working at Merlyn-Queen.  Ready to make her mark in the world

Ready to make Tommy Merlyn notice her, too.  

So far, both goals had been going perfectly.  She felt like she was fitting in well in the Applied Sciences Division of Merlyn-Queen, already earning praise from her supervisor.  

And here she was, the first Saturday night since she had returned home, standing by the net in the indoor tennis court, waiting for Tommy to arrive with glasses and champagne.  Just as she had watched him do with dozens of other girls during her teenage years.  

The strains of _Isn’t It Romantic?_ drifted from the party, making Felicity sway.  This was another part of Tommy’s game plan, and while she knew as a feminist she should object to all of this, the twelve-year-old Felicity who had dreamed of this was willing to go along with it tonight.  

She wanted to live the dream for tonight.  Tomorrow, she would try to rationalize her behavior tonight.  

Turning her head, she spied a figure walking towards the tennis court.  Feeling cheeky and giddy, Felicity dashed over to the umpire’s chair and climbed up, moving carefully so she didn’t put a heel through the skirt of her royal-blue gown.  Then she put on a smile to greet Tommy.

Only it wasn’t Tommy.  

It was Oliver Queen, Tommy’s best friend and adopted brother.  A serious, silent man, who might look as good or better than Tommy in a tuxedo, but who had none of Tommy’s charm or wit.  

What was he _doing_ , walking in here with glasses and a bottle of champagne?

XXX

Oliver Queen felt like a fool, walking towards the daughter of the Merlyn’s family maid.  Because even though Felicity, summoning up more politeness than was warranted, did her best to not look utterly crushed at the sight of him and not Tommy, Oliver knew who she really wanted.

But unfortunately for Felicity, Tommy was already spoken for.  He had agreed to marry Laurel Lance, the whipsmart daughter of Merlyn-Queen’s biggest competitor.  This marriage was the key to the company’s future, and Oliver couldn’t let anything or anyone stand in the way of this marriage.

Even if the barrier was a computer genius who had big blue eyes, “legs that were really something” in Tommy’s words, a set of plump, kissable lips and an ass that Oliver had definitely noticed earlier in the evening.  

Swallowing, Oliver put on his best charming smile and looked up at Felicity.  “Are you umpiring a game with invisible players?”

Felicity opened and closed her mouth, then shook her head and climbed down carefully.  “No, I just–I was just waiting for Tommy.”

“I know,” Oliver said, crouching down to set the glasses down on the tennis court.  He began working at uncorking the champagne, glancing up at Felicity.  “He sent me in his place.”

“Why?” Felicity asked, her voice soft and brimming with insecurity.  

Oliver took a long look at her, his hands pausing.  She had been fifteen the last time he had seen her, the day he had left for five years in Russia.  Scrawny, with big glasses and hair that was always back in a ponytail, Felicity hadn’t exactly caught a man’s attention.  Certainly not a man like his brother.  But Oliver had always thought there was a sweetness, a kindness, in Felicity.  They were qualities that often got drained away as people got older, and he had wondered if that would happen to Felicity.

It hadn’t, though.  She was still just as sweet as before.  But combined with her improved looks and confidence, it was no wonder that Tommy had noticed her tonight.  

So even though he had promised Tommy he would come up with an excuse for his absence, Oliver had to tell Felicity the truth.

“He put the champagne glasses in his pants pockets, and then, in a fight with his father, he forgot about them and then sat down.”

Felicity’s eyes widened, and she let out a little gasp of laughter.  She clapped a hand over her lips,but giggles kept escaping past her fingers.

Unable to hold back his grin, Oliver returned his attention to the champagne and got it open.  The cork flew across the court and he quickly poured the fizzy liquid into the flutes.  Standing up, he held a glass out to her.  “So that’s why you got me.  Tommy asked me to give you his apologies.”

“Thank you.  For the champagne and for coming here.  I’m sure you had much more important things to do tonight,” Felicity said, taking a small sip of the champagne.

Shrugging his shoulders, he eyed her over the rim of his glass.  It was true, he had plenty of networking to do tonight.  Not to mention reassuring Quentin Lance about the deal still going through, checking on Laurel to make sure she hadn’t realized what Tommy was up to, plus all the normal duties that the CEO of a company was responsible for.  

But right now, all he wanted to do was stand here with Felicity, sipping champagne and watching her and listening to her talk.   

XXX

This was so odd.  Oliver was acting very odd.  

Growing up, Oliver had never been part of her life.  Two years older than Tommy, he had been all but adopted by the Merlyns at the age of six, after his own parents had died in a yachting accident.  As the heir to half of Merlyn-Queen, and considering the lifelong friendship between the Merlyn and Queen families, it had made sense.

But Oliver had been marked by the death of his parents.  He was a quiet, brooding boy, who had grown up into a remote teenager.  While he was certainly smart, he had succeeded by working hard.  Whether it was achieving straight As, becoming a starter on the football team, or compiling hundreds of volunteer hours, Oliver had done it all through determination and hard work.

When she was fifteen, he had left for Russia.  Felicity didn’t know how long he had spent there, but when he had returned, he had taken over for Malcolm Merlyn as the CEO of Merlyn-Queen.  The older Merlyn had been installed as Chairman of the Board, while Tommy had never done a day of work at the company.  Which left Oliver in charge.  

From what she knew, all Oliver cared about was the company.  He worked out a lot, according to the gossip columns, and dated occasionally, but on the whole, Oliver Queen lived for his work.  

So why was he here, spending time with her–a nobody who happened to work for his company?

Felicity didn’t understand.  Especially with how Oliver was acting.  Because … he was _charming_.  Not in the flashy way that Tommy was, but in a quiet, warm, intimate way.  A way that made her do things she hadn’t planned to do.

Like dance with him.

It was a little strange, since they were both holding their champagne.  And Oliver wasn’t exactly light on his feet, but he could dance well enough.  Especially since they were dancing cheek to cheek, or more his cheek against her temple.  Which was … nice.  Really, really, _really_ nice.  He was so tall and broad and warm.  His hand rested lightly on her bare back, sending heat through her whole body.  She had to reach up to keep her hand on his shoulder, and she found herself gripping his tuxedo jacket a little tighter than normal.  Because he smelled good, and she could feel his breath washing over her face as they danced, and … 

“Felicity?”

“Mmmmm?” she asked, her eyes closed.

“If Tommy was here, you’d expect him to kiss you, wouldn’t you?”

She couldn’t help the soft little half-sigh, half-moan she let out in agreement with Oliver.  Because if she had been dancing with Tommy like this, she would have expected him to kiss her, yes.

When they stopped moving, Felicity opened her eyes and looked up at Oliver, ready to ask him why they had stopped moving.  But then she got caught up in Oliver’s oh-so-blue eyes as he gazed down at her.  

“Here’s a kiss from Tommy,” Oliver said, his voice thick.  

And then his lips were against hers, in a warm, soft, yet firm and utterly demanding kiss.  One that made her head spin. 

Oh, no.  They were actually spinning, because Oliver had broken the kiss and resumed their dance.  

Now her eyes were wide open as she looked over Oliver’s shoulder and wondered what was happening.

End.


	165. Drunk Broke-N-Arrow.

_Drunk Broke-N-Arrow._

Set during 3x17 Suicidial Tendencies.

There was a buzzing from … somewhere.  And it was _loud_.  

With a groan, Oliver lifted his head and squinted.  Bright sunlight was pouring in through the windows of his room, revealing Thea still asleep beside him.  His sister always could sleep through anything, which her current position confirmed: she was sprawled on her stomach, one arm tucked underneath her, smears of makeup around her eyes.  

Oliver frowned.  Since when did Thea start doing a green smoky eye?  

The buzzing was still sounding, in a very emphatic way–like it had been going off for a while and it wasn’t going to stop until Oliver stopped it.  

It was his phone, he thought, so he started hunting for it.  Finding it on the floor between his bed and the nightstand, he scooped it up, wincing a little as the pounding in his head increased when he leaned down.  

“Yeah?” he grunted into the phone, not even bothering to look at the caller ID.

“Oliver!  What the hell happened last night?”

“Felicity?” he asked, opening his eyes a bit.  Because she definitely sounded a bit panicked … and also like she was trying to hold back laughter?

A huff came through the phone.  “Yes, it’s me.  I’ve been up for an hour crashing the servers all of Starling City’s newspapers and tabloids and gossip blogs, because otherwise, they’d have a really juicy scoop: The Arrow and a new sidekick, drunk off their asses and _panhandling_ through the Glades!”

He opened his mouth, ready to ask Felicity what she was talking about, when Thea let out a soft snort and rolled over, revealing what she was wearing: her fancy dress from Digg’s wedding … and a green hooded sweatshirt.

That made Oliver look down, to see that he was wearing his tuxedo pants and a matching green hoodie.  

“Oh, shit,” he breathed out.

XXX

_Eight hours earlier_

The reception was winding down: Digg and Lyla had left for their honeymoon, Laurel and Thea were chatting while Roy kept trying to persuade Thea to step back onto the dance floor, and Felicity …

Felicity was dancing with Ray.

Oliver picked up his Scotch and took a slow sip as he kept watching.  How many times would he watch Felicity dance with someone else?  How many times before he would man up and put his lack of dancing skill–and his heart–on the line?  

Snorting softly, Oliver turned his back on the dance floor and gestured to the bartender, asking for his Scotch to be topped off.  Thank God for open bar, since right now, he was living pretty much hand-to-mouth.  What few assets he had after Isabel had stolen Queen Consolidated away from him, they were nearly exhausted.  If it hadn’t been for Thea asking him to move in with her once she returned to Starling City, he would be sleeping in the Foundry, like he had last summer.

Yeah, he was a great catch: broke and broken.  Why would Felicity pick him when she had a multi-billionaire looking at her like she hung the moon, a man who could fully appreciate her remarkable brain?

“You know, you’re pretty much solely responsible for the big liquor bill that Mr. and Mrs. Diggle are going to have.”  

Glancing over at Thea as she eased down beside him on a neighboring stool, Oliver huffed out a laugh.  “I don’t think it’s that bad, Speedy.  Besides, it’s a wedding.  You’re supposed to cut loose a little.”  

“So you cutting loose is staring at your former assistant between drinks?” Thea asked, her expression an example of studied innocence.  

“Thea,” Oliver insisted, meaning to sound firm and cut off this line of discussion.  But instead … he just sounded tired.  

She nudged him gently.  “When was the last time you had some fun?  Went out, had a few drinks too many, enjoyed yourself?”  

“Seven and a half years ago,” he answered glibly.  “Back when I knew what it was like to have fun.  Back when I had money to have fun.”  

A hard punch to his shoulder made Oliver wince.  “Ow, Speedy!”  

“Seriously, Oliver?  Jeez, no wonder you’re all alone right now if you’re Eeyore-ing all over the place,” Thea fired back.  She clambered off her stool and tugged on his arm.  “C’mon.  You’re coming with me.  You, Oliver Jonas Queen, are gonna have some fun tonight, or my name isn’t Thea Dearden Queen.  Which it is,” she insisted, poking him in the chest.  

“Just how much have you had to drink tonight?” Oliver asked, only for Thea to wave a hand in the air.  

“Never mind.  We’re going.  Roy!  I’m taking my brother out!”  

Thea’s voice carried across the room, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.  But not including Felicity, who had vanished.  Along with Ray.  And suddenly, Oliver thought that Thea’s idea seemed like a great one.  

Anything to get a break from feeling like this for a little while.  

XXX

“Shhhh–shhhh, Thea.”  Oliver coaxed his sister in between her giggles.  “We gotta be quiet.”  

“Then how are we gonna get money?” Thea asked, grabbing a hold of the hooded sweatshirt that he was wearing.  One of the two sweatshirts they had just bought, from a cheap clothing store on the edge of the Glades.  

“We gotta get you money, Ollie!  I mean, how d’you buy arrows now?”  

Oliver looked around wildly.  “Thea!  Shhh!  No one can know about that!”  Then he paused and frowned.  “I don’t know how I get arrows.  They just … show up.  But I make the arrowheads!”

Thea snorted.  “Betcha Felicity buys ‘em for you.”  

Shifting on his feet, Oliver looked down at his feet.  His mind felt muddy and slow, but the mention of Felicity made the booze swimming in his gut feel like a weight.  The happy feeling, at seeing his little sister having fun with him, smiling and giggling, was starting to disperse.  

“Oh, no no no,” Thea said, snapping Oliver out of his thoughts.  “No brooding.  Here!”  

She shoved the bottle of Jack–which they had gotten first on their little shopping trip–into his hands.  “Drink some more.  Then, we’re gonna start finding you money.  Gonna make everything better once you have some money.”  

There was something about this moment that made him think of a moment from fifteen years ago.  When Thea, a precious, headstrong six-year-old, had stomped up to him and told him that he was taking her to school, because she needed to talk about ‘important, grown-up stuff with you, Ollie’.  And said conversation was about some video she had seen in school about saving the dolphins and why was there any debate about it, because dolphins were cool.  

No matter how old he got–no matter how old Thea got–he would never stop doing everything he could to keep alive her belief in goodness.  The belief she had that there was a difference between right and wrong, good and evil, and that she and him were both on the side of good and right.  

So Oliver put on a smile and lifted the bottle, taking a long swallow.  And it did help chase away a few of his demons.  “I think I need a sign.”  

Thea’s eyes lit up.  “Yes!  You need a sign!  Gimme one minute.”  

His sister scampered around, turning up a piece of cardboard that wasn’t soaked through by the normal Starling City drizzle.  Then she went digging through her purse before producing a large felt-tip marker.  

“You had that in your purse?” Oliver asked, blinking a little.

“Yeah,” Thea said, as if she carried all kinds of things in her formal clutches.  “Turn around.  Oh, and here!”  She shoved a pot of sparkly green eyeshadow into his hand.  “You used to use greasepaint, and that’s the closest thing I have.”

“I’m not gonna wear this, Thea!” he protested.

She sighed and rolled her eyes.  “Fine!  I’ll wear it.  Now turn around.”  

Going along with her on that, he turned around and felt Thea use his back as a desk, scratching out a message on the cardboard.  

“There!” she said.  Oliver faced her, seeing the large grin she was sporting as she looked at the sign.  

“What does it say?”

“This is gonna get us so much money!” Thea said, bouncing on her feet.  She turned the sign around, holding it up.

And reading it over, Oliver felt something strange come over him.  A feeling bubble up inside him, one that he hadn’t felt in a long time.  Before he could analyze it, he was bending at the waist, laughing like he hadn’t laughed in a long, long time.  

“It’s perfect,” he said, once he had caught his breath.

Because it was.  A light from one of the few non-broken streetlights in the Glades illuminated the sign that Thea displayed proudly to him.

**WILL FIGHT CRIME 4 ARROWS**

End.


	166. Olicity college (or high school) AU where Felicity finds Oliver in her usual spot in the library and "what are you even doing in the library?"

_Olicity college (or high school) AU where Felicity finds Oliver in her usual spot in the library and "what are you even doing in the library?"_

With the same half-shy, half-furtive feeling she had experienced every time she walked into Starling Academy, Felicity stepped into the building early on a Tuesday morning.  Clutching her extra-large coffee, she made her way to the library, through the silent halls.  

As a scholarship student, Felicity naturally wanted to keep her grades up, in order to maintain her funding.  That meant studying harder and longer than anyone else.  And at Starling Academy, there were plenty of smart students to challenge her.  Although being a genius, they weren’t _that_ big of a challenge.  But still, she was going to study and do her best, not only to get into MIT and prove she was the best.  But it was to prove to her anonymous benefactor, the person who paid for her tuition and gave her a sizable living allowance, that he or she had made the right choice by believing in Felicity Smoak.

Even if she still felt like an impostor here.  Starling Academy was the best private school west of the Mississippi, but it didn’t just attract smart teens–it was also the school for several rich ones.  And that made Felicity feel like she didn’t belong here.  With her glasses and ponytail and skinny figure, she wasn’t like the other girls at this school.  With everyone knowing she was there on scholarship, she was the classic outsider.  

But honestly, that didn’t bother her too much.  She was getting the best education possible, one that would help her achieve her dream of attending MIT.  Just like Tony Stark and Buzz Aldrin and Radia Perlman, the Mother of the Internet.  

And getting the best education meant extra hours in the library, at the cozy desk tucked under a window in the back corner, just behind the shelves holding the computer and technology books.

Rounding the corner towards her desk, Felicity nearly spit out her coffee at who she found there.

Oliver Queen, Big Man on Campus.  One of the richest students in school–and one of the poorest.  The first being a matter of the huge amounts of money his family had, and the second because he never seemed to study, didn’t do his homework, and relied on said family’s already-stated money to get him through everything in life.  

“What are you doing here?” she asked, completely flabbergasted.  Because she was pretty sure Oliver Queen didn’t even know there was a library in Starling Academy, much less knew the location of the library.  

“Jeez, I heard you got here early, but I thought it was just Tommy pulling my leg,” Oliver said, pushing himself to his feet and yawning.  As he stretched, his uniform shirt rose up, revealing a sliver of his belly.  Felicity stared, then jerked her eyes up to his face.  

“Did you _sleep_ here?” she asked, his words finally sinking in.

Oliver shrugged and nodded.  “It was after two when I finally decided what I was gonna do, so I figured I might as well sleep here.”

“How did you get in–no, that question doesn’t matter right now.  What matters is why you’re in my seat,” Felicity asked, attempting to fold her arms over her chest and look firm, but the affect was somewhat spoiled by her coffee cup.  

“I heard you’re good with computers,” Oliver said, leaning down to open his messenger bag.  “I was hoping you could help me with mine.”  

The computer he presented to her was a top-of-the-line laptop.  The problem with it was very evident: three bullet holes.  

Felicity blinked.  “What happened?”

“I spilled a latte on it,” Oliver said glibly.

Narrowing her eyes at him, she tilted her head to the side.

“My coffee shop is in a bad neighborhood,” he replied to her unspoken question.  But then, he gave her this pleading look.  One that she wasn’t prepared for at all.  It did things to her.  

“I would really appreciate it if you could see if you could recover anything from this.”  

There were a million reasons to decline.  Because why did Oliver Queen, of all people, have a laptop that had been used for target practice?  Why was he coming to her of all people?  

But … Felicity had always hated mysteries.  And here was a riddle wrapped in a mystery surrounded by an enigma, in the guise of the hottest guy in school asking for her help.  And she wasn’t made out of stone–getting to spend time with a gorgeous guy?  It was the stuff of teenage girl dreams.  

Plus, if she fixed his laptop … maybe he’d put in a good word for her with people.  People that could help her down the line.  Or people that might invite her to a party once in a while, or become friends.  

She eyed him.  Nothing about him seemed to be joking, like this was something to embarrass her.  No, Oliver looked … hopeful?  Anxious?  Curious?  

There was a choice to make: figure out Oliver’s expression or decide if she was going to help him.  Felicity went with the easier option, and she found she had an answer automatically.

“Let me see it.”

Oliver handed her the laptop and Felicity immediately got to work, hooking his computer up to her own school-provided laptop.  Within ten minutes, she had downloaded the data from the thankfully-undamaged hard drive and put it on a flash drive.  “Here you go.  You lead a charmed life, Oliver Queen.”

“You have no idea,” he said with his rich boy smile, pocketing the flash drive and picking up the laptop.  “Thanks, Felicity–I owe you one.”  

“You know my name?” 

The words were out before she realized it, and Felicity could feel herself blushing.  Oliver gave her a long look, then his smirk deepened into a smile that was definitely very nice.  

“Yeah, I know your name, Felicity Smoak.  See you around.”  And then, with a wink, he turned and walked away.

Felicity sank down into her chair, looking out at the view of the rolling lawn without really seeing it.  What had just happened?  Had she just helped Oliver Queen?  Had she just given him a bunch of data, all with strange file names that didn’t look like they were in English?

And all the files had the word ‘bratva’ in the names–what was bratva?

Giving her head a shake, Felicity told herself to focus on her own homework.  But it took her a long time that morning to get started.  Not when she suddenly had a much bigger challenge than calculus.


	167. Baby kittens left in a box... at someone's work.

_Baby kittens left in a box... at someone's work._

There seemed to be a lot of noise coming from the other side of his office door.  Looking up from the stack of paperwork, Oliver Queen, interim mayor of Star City, wondered why he was hearing raised female voices and a lot of cooing.  

Maybe Katie, the city comptroller who had been on maternity leave, had brought in her son for a visit?  

Rising to his feet, Oliver smoothed down his tie and stepped over to his door, pulling it open.  “Ladies?”  

The four women gathered around the desk of his assistant, Megan, jumped at the sound of his voice.  Megan, her dark hair flowing down her back, turned and beamed at him.  “I’m sorry, Mayor Queen, but I found a box of kittens at the back entrance and, well …”  She cuddled the white and orange kitten in her arms unapologetically.

Oliver couldn’t help smiling.  “Let me see these little guys,” he asked, joining the women at Megan’s desk.  

Four of the five kittens were orange and white.  The fifth was mostly white, but with tortoiseshell markings around its face that almost looked like a mask.  That was the kitten that Oliver picked up, the animal looking particularly tiny in his hands.  

“Hello,” he said softly, gazing at the kitten.  Its green eyes were big and open, and it blinked slowly as it looked at him.  Then, it let out a soft little meow, before squirming in his hands and beginning to purr.  

“Awwww, she likes you,” Megan said with a smile.  “I thought you’d be a cat person.”

“I’ve never had a pet,” Oliver said, looking at his assistant.  

Megan opened her mouth to say something, but then she blanched and took a step back.  Oliver frowned, noticing how everyone had gone quiet, and looked up to see Felicity standing in the doorway that lead into the office. 

His ex-fiancee looked every inch the professional businesswoman, from her shiny ponytail to her killer heels.  But it was the expression on her face that made Oliver freeze, just like the women in the office.  Because Felicity looked … heartbroken?

“Felicity?” he asked, stepping towards her.  “What’s wrong?”  

She kept staring at him, making Oliver realize he was still holding the kitten with the tortoiseshell mask.  

“Do you not like cats?” Oliver asked, trying to figure out what was going on with her.  While this summer had seen them start to move past what had happened, neither of them had reached a point where they were comfortable being very vulnerable with each other.  And that was what Felicity was doing right now: she was being vulnerable towards him.  “You’re not allergic, are you?”

Her lips parted, then all at once, Felicity came back to life.  “No!  No, no, not allergic, just–just surprised to see you with a kitten.  But it makes sense, because you definitely seem like a cat person to me.  Like you’d appreciate their self-sufficiency and independence, yet they’re not afraid to cuddle and they always show when they’re happy.  Cats are better than people, I guess, huh?  Animals generally are, really, I’ve always thought so, but, but especially over the last few years, and oh my God, I–”  

Juggling the kitten, tucking it against his chest, Oliver reached out to rest his hand on Felicity’s shoulder.  “I don’t know if I am a cat person, really.  Like I was just saying to Megan, I’ve never had a cat.”  

Felicity’s eyes flicked towards his assistant, a curious expression appearing on her face for a split-second, before she focused back on him.  “Why do you have a kitten?”

“Someone left a box of kittens by the back entrance,” Oliver explained, drawing Felicity into the office.  He turned to Megan.  “Would you please arrange for the Star City Animal Shelter to pick up the kittens?  That is, unless there’s enough people here in City Hall that want a kitten–ask around, please?”

“I’m on it, Mayor Queen,” Megan said quickly.  

Oliver made a move to drop the tortoiseshell kitten in the box, but as he tried to do so, the kitten sank its claws into his suit jacket, refusing to let go.  But he was too worried about Felicity to delay talking with her, so he left the kitten where it was happy and ushered Felicity into his office.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you,” he said, turning to face her.  

“I suppose I should have made an appointment–”

“You never have to make an appointment, Felicity,” Oliver told her.  He leaned against his desk, feeling a bit strange with the kitten still clutching at him.  But he gave Felicity what he hoped was an encouraging smile.  “What brings you by?”  

Felicity fiddled with her purse, then slid it off her shoulder and set it on his desk.  “I … I realized I had a question for you.  One that I just had to ask you right now, and in person.  So I hope you don’t mind me just showing up in the middle of your day, when you have so much going on.”

“Not at all,” he told her, over the sound of the kitten’s purring.  

She gazed at him, and then she suddenly stepped even closer to him–closer than she had been to him in months.  Oliver felt his heart flutter in his chest as he stared at her.  

“Oliver,” she breathed out, reaching out to grasp the lapel of his suit jacket, just above where the kitten was perched.  And then she drew him down into a kiss. 

His eyelids fell shut, shocked and amazed and so in love with her that he never wanted this to stop.  

And then the kitten let out an indignant meow and squirmed against them.  They broke the kiss, both of them smiling.

“Did you want to ask me if you could kiss me?” Oliver asked.

A huge smile was on her face.  A smile he hadn’t seen in nine months, a smile he had missed so much.  Felicity shook her head.  “I was going to ask about adopting one of the kittens.  And if you were free for dinner.”

Smiling back at her, Oliver nodded.  “Yes, you can have one of the kittens.  But not this one–I think she’s mine.  Or I’m hers.  And … yes, I’m free for dinner.”

Felicity lifted her fingers and delicately stroked the kitten’s fur, right between her ears.  “But I like this one best.  Maybe we could share her?”  

When she lifted her eyes to his, they were so full of hope and happiness and, yes, love, Oliver felt breathless.  Like a dream he thought he would never have suddenly had come true.  

“We can talk about it at dinner,” he told her.


End file.
